TCOT Sorrowful Secretary
by DNPLC
Summary: Epilogue in Process. This is an addendum to TCOT Heartbroken Bride. Perry Mason...how could you? Is she or isn't Kaitlynn Parrish his daughter. The consensus seems to be that she is. Is there anything that can make such a travesty right? As usual, only the utterly perfect Della Street knows for sure. There is Spice.
1. Chapter 1

**TCOT Sorrowful Secretary, Danger, Spice Ahead**

This is an addendum to TCOT Heartbroken Bride. The movies' producers seem to pretend P/D didn't get together until after Della's trial because I don't think Perry (TV/book) would ever cheat let alone on Della. (Then again they are completely clueless about film noir so…) But the consensus in the PM world seems to be that Perry is Kaitlynn's father. Still, love the movies and Bride, which features a particularly nuanced performance by Miss Hale; her jealousy and pain, so evident, yet so subtle. Has any actress ever done as much with so few words? My real problem is that heinous actress playing Kaitlynn—THAT could never be the child of PM (or the lovely Diane Baker for that matter!)

_**June 14**__**th**__**, 1997**_

_**Los Angeles, The Bank of California Building, aka The Brent Building**_

Oh, thought Della Street, those eyes.

Gingerly she crossed the carpet marveling at them; indigo, silver-edged, enhanced by rows of fluffy black lashes. Those eyes, even when young, were so old, soulful, and wise that she would recognize them anywhere. For nearly fifty years those eyes had sent her tumbling down the rabbit hole at will only in that world, his world, Della Street was adored and understood, cherished and revered.

When those eyes searched her face as they did now, Della was transported not to a place, not to a time but to a _feeling_ that held her aloft forever suspended in love.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Saturday, June 6**__**th**__**, 1992 **_

_**Denver, The Parrish Mansion**_

From the moment the lovely Laura Parrish floated down the grand staircase of their Colorado vacation mansion and into the arms of Perry Mason, Della Street knew that all was not what it seemed.

This was not jealousy on her part; not yet anyway.

Over the decades as a cavalcade of beautiful women passed through their door, Della had pruned her jealousy and possessiveness like a good gardener prunes a rose bush, meticulous and vigilant, knowing that if allowed those feelings would grow back thicker and stronger, and choke the life out of a relationship.

For decades Perry Mason studied the way Della handled her jealously—finding her proficiency at it annoying. The grand master of emotion lacked her deft touch where this was concerned. Younger and detecting a potential threat Della would simmer quietly until a warning flashed in her kind eyes. As she got older she would walk by him, slow, sexy, female, a lava flow covering him with memory pulling him back to her.

What Perry Mason was forgetting, or maybe what he never knew, was that Della simply consigned what was left of her jealousy to that cordoned off area where she had been forced early on to hide so many other emotions, as well as her desires and dreams, because of their partnership.

When it came to Della, Perry's jealously was a life force encompassing him in its unforgiving grip, a hara-kiri knife tearing at his insides while he remained implacable outside. As late as two years ago finding out she had been engaged to a hometown guy at 18 made him nearly insane for a week. Learning someone else had loved Della Street—even 45 years ago—openly and with abandon left him inconsolable.

It was an irony of epic proportion.

On this spring morning surrounded by the bustle and joy of wedding preparations, Della was intuiting something much stronger than young love swirling in the air, tugging, poking and jabbing at her.

Della Street and Perry Mason knew literally thousands of people but very few knew them. At work and in private they functioned as a single entity, and as many people as there were around them on any given day or night, they were virtually each other's entire world.

Over the decades they kidded themselves into thinking that others didn't see what they were, just because they went to such great lengths to hide it. Indeed the very act of hiding it was, in part, what made it all so obvious. Two gorgeous _**single**_ people who spent their days and nights side-by-side, touching publicly in only the most chaste ways and yet their every look and shared laugh was so ripe with love they hid nothing.

In court one afternoon, Burger, Anderson and Paul stood just off to the side as Della and Perry were packing up to leave, accidentally touching hands, smiling, laughing quietly. When Perry saw they were being watched he loudly asked Della what she might be doing this weekend. Hamilton laughed out loud looking at Andy who watched his feet with a smirk. When they both caught the eye of Paul, who was sitting in a chair smoking, he just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

After all of these years it didn't seem like there could be any room left in their relationship for secrets so when one presented itself it was glaring. All day Della would turn to catch a glimpse of _something, _the tale of a comet already a memory by the time you realized you had seen it. While she couldn't hold onto whatever this was long enough to name it, _something_ felt uncomfortably like betrayal.

Della hadn't pieced it together but soon would; he had to know that as well. If he didn't he was underestimating her, which was unlike Perry. It was he who often warned others that she seemed demure and retiring but after all of these years her first rate mind was almost as capable of deduction as his.

As they stood in each other's arms—too long and too intimately—Della found herself walking directly over to Perry and Laura, almost insinuating herself between them. Perry instinctively and honestly reached out a loving arm for her, pulling her close and introducing her proudly to Laura Parrish. Barely turning her head Laura didn't really acknowledge Della, and Perry was sure Della had noticed, too.

Suddenly Perry Mason was horrified by his decision to bring her here; to even come himself. He didn't think that he was a stupid man; in fact, in most respects, he considered himself quite brilliant. But his need for Della, his only Achilles' Heel, was so great these days both in general and on this weekend in particular, that he had blundered and it was bound to cause her pain…again.

Only Perry Mason could break the heart of Della Street then need her, _and only her_, to help him through it. But then, only Della Street could find comfort for a broken heart _solely_ in Perry Mason, the very man who inevitably did the breaking.

They were quite a pair.

Walking through the Parrish mansion their arms around one another, they admired the home and Max's collections.

"Would you like something like this Miss Street?" Perry laughed because he knew the answer.

Della simply rolled her eyes and mouthed the word "Nooooo," in that exaggerated way she had when she was kidding around, which was often. As serious as he had grown over the years, Della had gone the opposite way becoming a bit of a clown. He suspected it was mostly to make him laugh, which unknown to all but his girl these days, he loved to do more than anything in the world even as it had grown so difficult.

The elegant, green-eyed woman—whose eyes were actually brown—watched Perry Mason and his secretary as they walked around the room where the wedding was to take place. As ever they were deep in conversation with each other, eyes and hands always connected. They would break to greet someone but return quickly to their conversation and mutual absorption. They never seemed to tire of each other's company.

Was she imagining it in her jealousy or did they, when they looked at other people have a completely different look in their eye when they turned back to look at one another again? No, she was not imaging it. Oh, thought Laura Parrish, to love like that and, more importantly, to have a man like Perry Mason love you like that.

Laura watched as Della, shaking her head and giving him a playful look of mock exasperation, planted herself in front of Perry to straighten the tie and vest that had gotten scrunched up from holding onto her so tight. Her long fingers moved over him quickly, intimately, as they clearly had thousands of times over the years. Finishing, Della took the opportunity to hold him, leaning in with her arms inside his jacket, to straighten and pull down his vest. Laura saw her raise her eyes slyly at Perry, who smirked and kissed her nose lightly.

There it was. That's really all it took, small, pedestrian intimacies practiced for decades.

Although everyone assumed over the years no one knew for certain, particularly after he went to San Francisco. Laura heard that lately they had been loosening their grip on propriety and she wondered just how far that might extend. Perry Mason still seemed so dignified and proper—more than ever, really—and Della Street remained every inch the lady, it was hard to imagine they would ever be all that open about a relationship.

For Della Street to have the hold over Perry Mason that she had, despite the fact that he shared something so precious with another woman, meant that she really must be the great love of his life; just as Perry had told her…warned her really.

Considering the result of a certain phone call Della Street placed on an autumn night a quarter of a century ago, he must have been just as important to her.

_DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason_

As they sat waiting for Kaitlynn Parrish to walk down the aisle, Della began to ask the questions she had never thought to ask before, like how exactly he knew Max and Laura.

After his unsatisfactory answer, she asked with an uncharacteristic edge to her voice, "_What_ civil rights committee?"

Perry remained stoic while answering without detail. But it was too stoic with far too little detail and the truth, when it occurred to her, felt like falling. When she asked if it was while he was in Georgetown, a city whose name had not passed her lips in 25 years, he fell, too.

Calmly confirming her worst suspicions he tried, gamely she thought later with some humor, to cover it by mentioning that although Laura and Max were having problems they reunited because of a baby.

Perry could feel Della stiffen and shift uncomfortably. How could he have tossed that information off so carelessly? As cold and heartless as it was Perry knew that he didn't dare look her way, not now. Della maintained her equanimity as ever, not jumping to the obvious conclusion, making small pleasant chatter and pasting on a smile.

Had Perry looked at her, he knew he would have seen her opening and closing her mouth a few times then biting her lush lip as she tended to do, trademarks of a woman eternally holding her tongue.

It had been such a bad, terrible time for them, for her, and for him because it was so terrible for her, that now sitting here he found himself wanting to erase the memory of what was happening from that pretty head.

"Oh, Della," Perry thought, as he sat there arms uncomfortably crossed over his enormous belly watching, waiting for the young woman who was likely his daughter to walk down the aisle on the arm of her _father_. "I _am_ sorry, Baby."

_DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason_

Snuggled into his arm Della lay next to Perry watching him sleep as she often did when she woke in the middle of the night. All they meant to do today was attend a wedding. It shouldn't really have been that complicated and had they not been Perry Mason and Della Street it wouldn't have been. But by afternoon's end a man was dead, Perry's God-daughter had been charged with the murder, they had immediately started work on her case and Della had likely met the woman with whom Perry had cheated on her 25 years ago.

Della had known about his affair since it happened but after they made it through that awful time, helping each other through as ever, she had put it out of her mind.

If you didn't forget, Della Street always said, you didn't really forgive.

Della had heard sporadically of Laura and Max Parrish over the years but she had never met them, or their daughter, Kaitlynn. When Perry had asked her to accompany him to this wedding she didn't think much of it. Della had never queried him about their friendship, and now she wondered if her subconscious was smarter than she was.

Perhaps it was something in his attitude that made her reticent; absolutely no one could shut down a conversation like Perry Mason, just as he had today. This afternoon when they sat waiting for the wedding to begin and he said he had "worked" with Laura in Georgetown, Della's heart sank. Laura Parrish was the right age certainly, about 15 years younger than Della, and she had been an attorney.

That would, however, mean something almost unthinkable—that Perry brought her to the home of the woman with whom he cheated on her, without thinking she deserved so much as a warning. Had she been given that consideration she would, as always, have risen to the occasion. But she hadn't been given that consideration and Perry clearly did not want to discuss it now, in fact, was being almost callous about it.

Was it possible that Perry Mason could be that cavalier, now after all of these decades—they had been lovers now for almost 41 years, together for 43. Perry was not a cruel man and she was secure in his love for her, a love that most men—most women come to that—could never even fathom.

So what was it then? What great, Earth-shattering reason was there that he felt he had to be here and needed her by his side so much that he was willing to risk her heart ache all over again? The breadth of such a reason, the power it already had, was daunting and Della suspected she knew what it might be; the only thing it could be.

They had made love tonight, although she had resisted at first mostly, if not entirely, because she was exhausted. Perry had been so loving, though, kissing and touching her with such great tenderness that she could not resist him.

Della had been astonished to see him in bed naked, lights on when she came into the bedroom. He never did that anymore. Perry was trying to communicate something to her and she felt she needed to go along. Without losing eye contact, Della removed her clothes slowly then slipped into bed next to him, accepting the clue without being able to decipher it completely.

Perry turned on his side immediately pulling her over to him one arm under her head, which lay in the crook of his elbow. Sometimes Della couldn't believe how very different they were now from the people they were when they were young. She knew it was happening, watched even as it happened and suspected it was the normal course of life. But she knew too, that it was greatly exacerbated by their vocation, the accompanying lifestyle and, probably, the stress of the way they had conducted their personal life all of these years.

When they were in bed together, though, and when Perry looked at her like this with the smile of his youth, time reversed. Lumbering and slow now, a few minutes into their lovemaking age and pain would fall away from him, and he would be as capable as he was at 35, only more patient and even more adept.

Traveling together through the night they would reach further and further back, watching the stars grow younger in the sky.

Staring into her eyes, his fingertips caressing her forehead then the side of her face, Perry began to tease her with his lips. If she lived to be 100 nothing would ever feel quite like Perry's perfect mouth. They had busy days ahead, especially tomorrow, but tonight he took his time, luxuriating, knowing full well what he could do to her this way. Over and over he moved his lips on her mouth then, down over her chin and along the ridge where her soft cheek sloped down into her lovely neck.

Perry Mason wanted Della Street to know how loved she was.

And it scared the Hell out of her.

There was so much unspoken between them tonight, so much that they both knew lay ahead and Della knew she wasn't the only one who was scared. Even in their 70s; even after decades together; even if their lives were constructed solely around each other and their practice; the kind of passion they shared meant, and would always mean, that there was still plenty of room for fear.

Perry had put Chet Baker on to accompany them and he was hovering over her, his eyes never having left hers when the song that had inspired her term of affection for him, "My One and Only Love," started. Perry watched her eyes blossom with tears as the song played.

She knew.

And now he knew that she knew. Soon, very soon, she would know the rest. He couldn't stop that and he couldn't take away the hurt that would ensue. Older now, he had accepted this in a way he could not accept it when he was younger and broke her heart so many years ago; when he thought that the look of hurt in her eyes that night she picked him up at the airport might actually kill him.

_The very thought of you makes__My heart sing__  
__Like an April breeze__On the wings of spring__  
__And you appear in all your splendor__  
__My one and only love__The shadows fall__A__nd spread their mystic charms__  
__In the hush of night__While you're in my arms__  
__I feel your lips so warm and tender__  
__My one and only love  
__  
_

Perry dropped his mouth down again, covering her lips as if he had yet to kiss her tonight. Kissing the tears away he could feel the warmth of her breath against his own. As he concentrated on her tongue he could feel her starting to arch ever so slightly beneath him.

"Just because I have made mistakes, Della Street, and we're both well aware that I have made some reprehensible mistakes, does _not_ mean that you're not my one and only love, too."

_The touch of your hand is like heaven__  
__A heaven that I've never known__  
__The blush on your cheek__  
__Whenever I speak__  
__Tells me that you are my own_

Della reached up and put her hands on his cheeks while he kissed her, stroking his beard. She realized it was the first time she had touched him tonight and he moaned happily in her ear.

_You fill my eager heart with__Such desire__  
__Every kiss you give__Sets my soul on fire__  
__I give myself in sweet surrender__  
__My one and only love__  
_

_The blush on your cheek__  
__Whenever I speak__  
__Tells me that you are my own__  
__You fill my eager heart with__  
__Such desire__  
__Every kiss you give__  
__Sets my soul on fire__  
__I give myself in sweet surrender__  
__My one and only love_

When he dropped his head further down to her breasts she clutched at his arms with her hands. Although she was responding to him now, she still wasn't really letting him in. The past was between them and he needed to make it disappear.

Running her fingers through his soft gray hair now she held the back of his head firmly against her chest as he covered every inch of silky skin with his lips, moving them over and over her until she was gasping. When he felt her pressing herself against his thigh he knew that she had finally dropped her guard. Still lingering over her he started to let her feel his weight, nipping ever so lightly at her most delicate skin. Della threw her head back, shuddering as she let herself go.

Perry barely let her rest for a moment before finally joining their bodies together, echoing Chet Baker's words quietly in her ear—he had chosen the music very carefully.

_You're my thrill  
You do something to me  
You send chills right through me  
When I look at you  
'Cause you're my thrill_

Tonight was solely about their extraordinary closeness and turned into one of _those_ nights. Perry was particularly aroused and to Della it felt once again like the first night they had ever made love.

_You're my thrill  
How my pulse increases  
I just go to pieces  
When I look at you  
'Cause you're my thrill_

Lost in his arms, Della's eyes refused to let his go now either. With her arms around his neck she drew him to her, holding on tight, a slender leg draped possessively around one of his. Feeling safe again, now that she was claiming him, Perry relaxed into her. They were quiet, the only sounds coming from Perry moving his body leisurely, deliberately into her.

_Nothing seems to matter  
Here's my heart on a silver platter  
Where's my will  
Why this strange desire  
That keeps mounting higher  
When I look at you  
I can't keep still  
You, my thrill  
You know you are my thrill_

Chet Baker's lugubrious trumpet complemented their slow, silent, secretive lovemaking, which even for them had reached uncharted intensity. When their breathing was staggered at exactly the same pace, Della took his mouth in hers, as Perry made them soar, letting them touch down for only a moment before taking off again the last wave of pleasure holding them under for what seemed like forever.

Later Della recognized what had happened to them tonight in bed. That emotion, their intimacy, the desperate sharp, jagged cry they shared in the final moments of their passion, Della recognized it all from a night 25 years before.


	3. Chapter 3

_**January, 1967**_

_**Los Angeles, CA & Georgetown, DC**_

Perry Mason had been offered a prized teaching position to add to his already unparalleled curriculum vitae, although he wasn't sure how he was going to manage it.

Invited to be guest lecturing law professor at Georgetown University for a year, Perry would have to travel back and forth from L.A. to D.C. from February to May and September to December. This schedule would have deterred lesser men; men who didn't have Della Street at their side to encourage them, arrange their schedule and pick up the slack at the office in their absence.

In the quiet hours Perry Mason tended toward melancholy and loneliness and the only person who ever allayed those pervasive feelings was Della. Just thinking about being away from her, this far away for potentially this long a period, made him nervous. But Della, as unhappy with the prospect of their separation as Perry, promised to work out a schedule with which they could live.

Coordinating the timetables of several airlines, Della arranged for him to fly out on Monday night and stay through the following Thursday afternoon when he would fly home after his last lecture. Della acquiesced to having her own secretary, _finally_, which pleased Perry enormously and she would fly out for the middle of the trip, from Thursday until Tuesday morning.

There would be weeks Perry just would not be able to stay the ten days but at worst, they would be apart three nights the first week and two the second; a manageable amount, particularly since in the meantime they would both be insanely busy.

Della found a pied-á-terre with wood paneled walls a huge bay windows overlooking the city in a townhouse on O Street NW at 35 St. NW, in the historic district of Georgetown near the university. Charming row houses were snugged next to one another on cobble stone streets laced with tracks for a cable car that, sadly to Perry's mind, had become obsolete in 1960. Della knew that Perry's fascination with history, architecture and art would make him comfortable here even when she wasn't around.

Della was to stay the first two weeks "setting up house," as it were. They shopped like any other couple for the few comfortable furnishings the apartment needed, giggling like newlyweds as they tried out the beds. Everything was delivered quickly and Della made it warm and comforting. She hired the cleaning woman for three times a week, made sure that he had numbers for grocery and liquor stores that delivered, wood for the fireplace, and plenty of clean sheets, and towels.

D.C. could not have been more different from Los Angeles. This was a town of sanctioned thieves and liars; poseurs who sold themselves as the ultimate saviors of justice, of the economy, of democracy and of the world. Although Della and Perry shared the same talent, being able to get along with just about anyone just about anywhere, it didn't mean they had to like it and they quickly realized that they did not like the zeitgeist of D.C. Since all they ever needed was one another, though, they would simply turn this into an adventure for two… hold the dead bodies.

Without the media glare of Los Angeles constantly trained on them, they behaved much differently, living together quite openly first in the hotel, then the apartment. Perry was 50, Della 45 and for the first time in their long relationship, they could behave like adults their age instead of teenagers worried about who might see them coming and going from one another's apartment.

D.C. was not as temperate as they had been led to believe so after outfitting the house they outfitted themselves; warmer coats for both and, fashionable young lady that she was, warmer attire of every kind for Miss Street. Perry made appointments for her at D.C.'s most exclusive boutiques and as the models paraded before them, paid close attention to her reactions knowing that she would select only a few things.

True to form Della chose judiciously: a black, wool Givenchy suit with dramatic lines and a high-waisted skirt; a straight, gray flannel skirt with a slit and higher hemline; two white blouses that looked magnificent with either skirt, one tailored with a beautiful collar, the other crossed at the neck and sexy; and a few pairs of gloves, including an elegant pair of white satin evening gloves.

Since there would be numerous formal occasions she also chose two gowns in still another boutique. The first, a long white strapless satin brocade column by Scaasi with a dramatic bright red, floor-length evening cape that had a sweeping foot-high color and was lined with the dress' same white satin brocade, made them both jump when the model came out. Perry insisted that she try it despite her reservations.

"Dear, I know that I can wear an evening gown but," Della shook her head modestly and laughed. "That is too much dress for little ole' me."

The sales associate agreed but Perry knew his girl better than either of them did and insisted. And when she appeared, even though he knew she was going to make a sensation, the effect was so dramatic, so stunning, that he nearly fell off the couch. The sales associate apologized for her poor judgment and the lovely, young model laughed at Perry's reaction and offered that it looked far better on Miss Street than it ever could on her.

When the young lady went back into the changing room to help her off with the gown Della asked with a sly grin, "Now how did you know my name?"

Laughing the girl responded with a slight blush, "Oh I'm sorry…I'm from Los Angeles, trying to get back actually. Anyway, you two are legendary out there."

"Mmm," purred Della in a rueful tone, "That's why we're kind of enjoying it here."

"Say, why don't you just marry the guy, huh? Haven't you been together forever?"

Della considered the pretty young thing, considered a non-answer, which is what she usually gave on the rare occasion anyone was bold enough to ask. But she sensed a young lady who needed a lesson.

"What are you doing out here and why are you trying to get back?"

"I followed a fellow out here. He promised…well…" she had been sitting on a dresser swinging her legs when she stopped and sighed.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 19!"

"I was just wondering, Dear. You want to be in show business?"

"Not necessarily. But I do want to go home and there's not much else to do there."

"Nonsense. I haven't married Mr. Mason for a complex set of reasons, some to do with me and some to do with him. But I love our work and that's very important. I'd advise you to find something you feel the same way about. The men will follow just make sure that _you_ don't follow _them_."

"Okay, when I get home…I almost have enough saved."

"_Then_ what?"

"I don't know," she looked at Della, laughing. "Get a modeling job back home and work my way through secretarial school?"

"I'll make a deal with you," said the woman who could not resist a stray, "You come and see me two weeks from Tuesday. I work with, and speak at, all of the local secretarial and business schools and I will get you in with financial help, okay?"

The young lady sat up, "Really? That's awfully nice of you. I'm Liza, by the way. Liza Gay."

Della tipped her head and frowned, "You are not."

"What do you mean?"

"No young _lady_ is born with the name Liza Gay," said Della Street.

"Oh," she hung her head. "Elizabeth, Betsy, actually. Betsy…Gray."

Della burst out laughing and cupped her cheek in her hand, immediately making the young girl teary.

"What did you do? Just drop the 'r?'"

The girl nodded and Della had to fight to keep from laughing again.

"Okay, Betsy Gray. I will see you in my office two weeks from Tuesday at exactly 10AM… Brent Building, look it up in the phone book." Della nodded her head.

"Hey wait, what if I don't have the money by then for the ticket?"

Della just looked over her shoulder at the girl who suddenly looked about 12 and very lost.

"Make sure the dress gets to the desk, will you please, Betsy? He's not going to be fit to live with until he buys that dress."

Della put on her gloves, shaking her head and smirking; her mind was already _firmly_ back on Perry Mason.

Della waited until the sales associate, to whom Perry had been whispering, left then slid seductively onto the couch next to him. When he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in, his scent was warm and sexy, a mixture of cologne and soap, a hint of the wine he had been sipping, the cigarette he had been smoking and then, of course, just…him. She put her head on his shoulder breathing him in and making a little noise even she didn't recognize. Perry chuckled lightly in her ear.

As much as she didn't like D.C. she loved the freedom they had here to be with one another. They both took full advantage of it.

"I am having the best time," he whispered in her ear eliciting her deep, laugh. "Tell me why you were away from me for so long."

Della's face got serious, making his serious, too. She whispered to him for several minutes, pulling back to look at him a few times, before leaning in to continue. At the end of her conversation he rested his forehead against hers, stroking her cheek with a finger as he kissed her so softly with those lips of his that she swooned a bit, her head bobbing back, eyes half-closed.

Perry asked the saleswoman for an envelope and when she brought it turned away to slip in 3 crisp $100 bills before handing it to Della to address and seal. Looking at him over the envelope's point, her hazel eyes watched him as her tongue sensuously followed the trail of glue.

Then, mugging for him, she handed him the envelope and wrinkled her nose, "Yech…"

Perry laughed out loud with her, both sets of dimples, low and high, showing on his cheeks. "Come here and let me kiss that away…"

He did.

Lastly they visited the lingerie boutique where a saleswoman informed Mr. Mason that he could wait in the lounge for gentlemen where he could have a cigarette and brandy, while "the young lady" would be taken into the showroom to see the pieces being modeled.

Mr. Mason had other ideas; Mr. Mason _always_ had other ideas.

"I don't care what these things look like on _any_ other woman in the world," Perry gave the woman his most roguish grin, hands in his pockets as he leaned against the door. "May we please have the use of a private room where 'the young lady' can try things on…herself?"

"I take it," said the well-seasoned clerk, "That you would like to join her?"

Perry's smile revealed that little hitch on the right side of his mouth, "That would be the general idea. That is, of course, if you have no objections."

Della had been quietly looking down at her shoes, lips pursed ready to break out into a grin herself.

"None at all. If you'll both follow me."

After showing them to a private room carpeted in pale pink with a small carpeted pedestal in front of a paneled mirror, the saleswoman brought a variety of things to the little changing room next door for Della to try on.

Sitting back comfortably in a lounge chair, brandy in hand, Perry admired Della as she came out in a dazzling and increasingly sexy array of nightgowns, peignoirs, slips, pajamas, garters, bra and pantie sets, and bustiers in the most delicate satin and silks.

When she stepped on the pedestal the first time he gave her his widest smile and from behind the snifter said, "Nothing I like more than a perfect metaphor, as you know."

Della laughed out loud and shook her head.

Perry had _thought _thatthis was going to be fun and it was, at first. Watching the most naturally lovely woman he had ever seen—who also just happened to be the great love of his life—model exquisite underwear for him, was an extraordinary experience. Della, who had done quite a bit of modeling in school, hadn't lost the touch, making sure to drop shoulder at the appropriate time and allowing the customer a chance to "inspect" the material.

Stepping down and coming over to him occasionally, Perry ran his hand along her silk-covered hip, or played with the intricate, delicate lace of a bra. But soon forehead damp, face flushed, Perry was in _obvious _discomfort and Della was having issues of her own.

When she had on a particularly racy black bra and pantie set with matching garter, she came over to him so "the customer could see it up close." Perry stood and kissed her neck, running the brandy glass across her exposed belly before raising it to her lips so she could have a sip. Perry took another drink himself before Della took it from him and set it on the coffee table. Reaching her arms up she ran her delicate tongue over his lips.

"You definitely make this cognac taste better," she growled low, in his ear.

"Young lady," Perry said running the fingers of one hand around her back, the fingers of the other around her front making her moan quietly in his ear. "I think it's time to get you home. By the way, I don't care too much for this."

"Oh, Counselor… I'm afraid that not only are we going to have to take this silly get up," Della panted slightly looking up at him through her lashes, "But I am afraid that I'm going to have to wear it home. I _cannot_ give it back to the saleswoman."

Perry was still smirking as they walked out of the shop, arms around each other, virtually the entire inventory in size 6 and 34C in the bag he carried.

That night as they walked into the vestibule of the townhouse Della was overwhelmed by the stacks of garment bags, boxes, and packages of every shape and size.

"Perry!" she shrieked in that deep voice. "What have you done?"

"What you have never let me do in our 18 incredible years as partners in life and in work, Miss Street. What I could not do for you in Los Angeles without ending up in the gossip pages. I have spoiled you and I cannot wait to open a bottle of wine, lay on the bed and watch you open every single one of these packages," Perry smiled, tapping her on the nose.

And he did just that. After opening a very expensive bottle of champagne and getting into the handsome navy cashmere robe with his initials that she had bought him for Christmas, he lay on his side on a mountain of pillows with his wine, cigarettes and an ashtray next to him on the bed.

"Perry, you look like a Pasha."

"Della…please… a Pharaoh, I think. A Vizier at least; anyone with a turban and a yak tail can be a Pasha. And now, commence young lady…" Perry motioned his hand.

Della started laughing her deep throaty laugh, reasonably sure how this was going to end up; and where it was going to end up. As she started opening packages, however, her laughter turned to amazement. Was there anything he hadn't bought?

There were the _really _expensive couture ball gowns she had avoided by Givenchy, Dior and Balmain, including a straight pearl grey column with a geometric bodice and spaghetti straps. Jacques Heim cocktail dresses one in a coppery dark brown with long sleeves and a deep v-neck. A gorgeous full-length coat in winter white with a tapered bottom and wide, full sleeves. Another black suit, this one with deep, ermine cuffs and collar; three suits for court including a gray wool Swansdown; three shirtwaist dresses one in tiny horizontal red and white pinstripes, one in emerald and another in a magnificent shade of purple; and the most beautiful pink Dior suit and pink Dior cocktail dress she had ever seen—in fact, she didn't see them, he picked those out from a rack he spied of things that had just come in.

Then there were the furs. Della just put her hand on her hip and looked at him in exasperation.

When she opened the box with the deep brown sable swing coat she was stunned by its beauty. But the pearl gray mink with wide lapels and floral satin lining was simply too much and through tears she said so.

"And you wanted that ratty old moth-eaten mink a decade ago," he said taking a drag of his cigarette and laughing.

"Perry, I adore you. But I just don't need all of this. It's …incredible but…"

"Della, I've been wanting to do this for such a long time. You only ever let me buy you a few little things here and there, for holidays, maybe a couple of things during the year," Perry looked down at his hand as he ran it over the sheet and shrugged his shoulders.

"You know, we've made all of this money and it is '_we_,' Della. We never spend any of it. We seldom have the opportunity to go anywhere; we have a few things but we're not extravagant people. I hear I still have a boat but I wouldn't know," he looked up at her with a crooked, half smile. "We don't even own our apartments. We still rent."

Perry took another drag of his cigarette then put it out. "Della, I know this was outrageous but…it was _fun_."

Perry with his still boyish, sheepish grin, unable to look her in the eye, was apologizing to her for his generosity and it just about broke her heart. Her Pasha was suddenly about 8 years-old, and when she crawled onto the bed next to him, he laid his head on her lap as she stroked his hair.

Turning on his back he looked up into her eyes, reached his hand around stroking the back of her neck lightly before his fingertips guided her head down. Della let her lips linger over his, not quite touching, running her nose along his and letting her lashes flutter against his cheeks. Perry arched his back, letting his mouth open and warm, run along her neck and up to her ear. He loved doing that to her, loved the way it always made her shoulder shoot up, made her giggle like a young girl or brought her back to him when she was cross.

Della ran her hand inside the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, stroking his belly, smiling slyly when she could feel that there was suddenly no turning back for him.

"I thought you wanted to go out to dinner tonight and wear some of that stuff," he laughed, tickling her ribs lightly, making her wriggle down in the bed.

"That, Counselor is what left overs are for…" said Miss Street, matter-of-factly before she slid a leg between his.

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As it turned out, when they were together, D.C. was quite an enjoyable experience. During an interview with the Washington Post, the eminent Perry Mason was asked what he was enjoying about the area and mentioned discovering some fine restaurants and taking his secretary, a talented amateur artist, to the D.C.'s superior museums.

What he kept to himself is what they loved best, dancing the night away. Perhaps not surprisingly, D.C. offered some wonderful nightclubs and places to hear jazz. Every night that they didn't have to catch up on work Della they danced.

Perry and Della were having a rare moment of domesticity in their lives. While they occasionally spent evenings at home in L.A. making dinner and relaxing, something about living together like this was very different. On nights they stayed in and worked, one or both of them would cook a simple dinner, which they would eat by the fireplace as they worked.

Each night they went to bed together and every morning woke in one another's arms. Every single night, wherever they started, they ended up finding each other in slumber and by morning were a twisted but comfortable mess of arms, legs, sheets and blankets.

In 18 years together they had never spent more than a week waking up together every morning; this was over three weeks and they got used to it so fast, they wondered how in the world they were going to go back to it the other way.

Della attended Perry's lectures sitting motionless in the back completely captivated by his voice and his wonderful manner of teaching. When he invited her on the first day, she declined saying this was his time, his project, something he had to do by and for himself.

"Della, I want to show off for you," Perry said with a huge grin.

Any time the little boy appeared he always got his way. One of the reasons Della was disappointed not to have had children with Perry is that she had always wanted a little version of him. But then two Perry Masons—or Heaven forbid more—might have been too much for any woman, even Della Street.

As Della's two weeks, which had turned into three already, drew to a close they grew bereft at the idea of being separated. The day before she was supposed to leave they clung to one another until Perry pointed out that they were acting ridiculous.

"It's true," laying on his chest, Della nodded trying to emulate his sudden burst of fortitude and good sense even though she was resigned to crying all the way home the next day. "We're being childish."

"Exactly, Della, you will simply stay another week."

The exact opposite of what she expected to hear, Della burst out laughing with relief.

"You're the boss," she said looking up at him.

Turning on his side, Perry pulled her down in his arms and grinned at her, "Since when?"

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For the spring semester their commute worked out just fine. Perry loved being a detective and defense attorney but the decidedly academic side of him found in teaching a kind of fulfillment that he had craved. Impressed with the dedicated, eager, young minds he found at Georgetown, he also found that he enjoyed being a mentor and spending time with the young people at this stage of their development.

Both the students and school invited him to be on various committees, which he readily accepted with the proviso that they knew his availability was limited due to trips west for his practice and nights when his secretary was in town for "work."

As much as he was enjoying teaching, however, when he came home for the summer Perry was ambivalent about returning for the fall semester. They had added a Wednesday mock trial lab that required extensive preparation, making it harder for him to get home but their calendar was so full starting in November that Della was going to have to curtail her trips east. Her work load that autumn would be astounding.

As Paul told him on the phone one night, "That girl is doing her job _and_ yours. I've never seen anything like it. If she could legally appear in court boy would you have it made!"

As expected they got too lonely, too quickly. Perry, as usual, tried to tamp down his emotions with too much good food and too many cocktails. It seemed to Perry as if Della was always in the office now and he worried about her health and safety. He insisted that someone else always be in the office with her no matter how late she had to stay; he would happily pay double time. As back-up he also arranged with Paul for one of the operatives to keep tabs on her.

Della had encouraged him to take this position but had never expected that they would have to spend a month apart at a time. They weren't kids anymore and working alone at his desk day-after-day, night-after-night was taking an unexpected emotional toll. It didn't help that so many times when she would call to hear his voice he was out. Of course it was merely part and parcel of the position, she understood that but it didn't make it any easier. Toward the end of October she was literally counting the weeks until the semester's end.

Late one night Della was working on a multitude of briefs when she had a sinking spell. The hours ahead seemed long and desolate, the office cold and even a bit frightening. Perry was at an event that night and said they probably wouldn't be able to speak but they hadn't seen one another in three weeks and she needed to hear his voice.

When she phoned at midnight his time and again at 1:00AM he hadn't answered. By 2AM she was getting worried and didn't know what to do if he wasn't back in their quiet, little Georgetown apartment.

After the first ring she was relieved to hear the phone lift off the hook but her relief was short-lived. A decidedly young, female voice answered, "Hello," prompting Della to pull back from the receiver as if _it_ was the thing that somehow betrayed her. When she heard her again, this time sounding slightly annoyed, Della slipped into a mode that seemed odd even to her.

"Is…Mr. Mason there? This is… his secretary."

"Oh, yes, of course," the young voice became considerably more formal. "Let me find him for you. He seems to wander at night."

Yes, he does, thought Della placing the receiver back in the cradle. He does, indeed.

Seconds later when the office phone rang...and rang, and rang…she couldn't answer it. There wasn't even a word for what she was experiencing. Sitting in his chair she wanted to move, to pack up, to go home but she was rooted to the ground. In the distance she heard the phone ringing and ringing. Maybe if she picked it up, she thought, maybe there would be an explanation.

"_He seems to wander around a lot at night."_

Yes, there was an explanation but hearing him say it wasn't going to improve the message. The phone stopped for a while and in a daze Della put on her shoes and coat, and grabbed her handbag. She didn't remember to turn off the lights and only barely managed to lock the door. Behind her she could hear the office phone start ringing once again.

The empty halls echoed with the brittle sound of her heels; at this time of night the soft snap of his soles were usually companionably next to hers. His arm would be tucked in hers, his hand warmly stroking the inside of her elbow and upper arm as they walked leaning in to one another. Tired as they were, they would still be laughing about something that had happened that day and it seemed like the least lonely place in the world.

Tonight the overwhelming darkness she had experienced in the office prompting her to call Perry enveloped her now. The elevator felt like an upright coffin, the walk to the garage interminable. "Are these the shadows of things that may be or shadows of the things that will be?" Della asked herself thinking of Dickens.

Waiting for Harry to bring her car a large, well-dressed man staggered in drunk, smoking, and staring at her legs. As he moved toward her, Della felt more vulnerable than she had ever felt in her life. Stepping backwards and pulling her coat around her she backed into someone and jumped off the ground.

Turning her head quickly she recognized the gentleman from Paul's office and relaxed. As he stepped from the darkness the drunk ran off. Nodding thanks to Paul's operative she was relieved when Harry drove up with her car.

"Get home safely, Miss Street," said the gentleman whose name she believed was Randy.

"Thank you. Thank you very much. I think I'm very lucky you were here," Della said as she smoothed her skirt and tucked herself behind the wheel.

Navigating her way home, the roads, the neighborhoods, everything seemed foreign to her; it was familiar but it was as if she didn't recognize the way. Oh, Perry, Della thought, what have you done to us and how could you do it?

"_He seems to wander around a lot at night."_

Approaching her door she could hear the phone ringing incessantly and she worried about her neighbors. As soon as she walked in she unplugged the thing.

Stepping into the shower she stood, numb, just out of reach of the water for the longest time wondering what her life was going to be like from now on.

"_He seems to wander around a lot at night."_

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When Perry had called Paul, he expected sarcasm, he expected to be called names. What he hadn't expected, what he could not have been prepared for, was Paul's iciness. Originally Paul greeted him warmly, but when he heard Perry's story, those were the last kind words he would hear from Paul for months. He tried to keep emotion out of it, saying that a woman had answered his phone when Della called and now she wouldn't speak to him. Perry just wanted him to get her home and make sure she was okay.

"Why would she be, okay?" asked his best friend.

"Paul, I'm sure she's not that's why I want you to check on her,"

"Why would I do that for you?"

Perry was quiet a moment, "Because you're my best friend."

"No. She was your best friend."

"Paul, please. I'm worried about her."

"I guess you should have thought about that before you dropped your trousers. Do that next time."

"There won't be a next time."

"That's what you said last time."

"You sound like a woman now."

"Perry, I already intend to kick your ass when you get back here and not even Della Street is going to be able to stop me. Don't make the promise of that moment any sweeter for me then it already is—just a warning."

Perry had hoped for a modicum of support from his friend and this flagrant hatred hurt. "I'm sorry."

"I'm going to leave _my_ _son_ now and go check on my friend; not for you, for her."

"Can you call me?"

"Go to Hell. You can just spend your night worrying."

"Paul," he heard him call as he was about to hang up.

"Yeah?"

"Make sure you actually _see_ her."

God, thought Paul Drake, no one's arbiter of monogamy, who in the Hell cheats on Della Street? Twice.

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Through the spray she heard her doorbell, knew it must be Paul and wrapped herself in her white terry robe with DKS on the lapel.

"Paul?" she asked through the door.

"Beautiful?"

Della sighed, angry that he would sic Paul on her when he had to know that she was a mess.

"I can't, Paul." Della holding her robe closed the tears finally finding her.

"Beautiful, I promised him I would make sure I _saw_ you. Not that he deserves any peace of mind."

"I'm sorry, I can't. Please…Paul. Be my friend, too. I'm the one who really needs one," there was a slight sob in her voice and he heard her lean against the door.

"Okay, Baby," said Paul putting his hand against the door. "Harry and Randy said you had a scare at the garage."

"It's okay. Thanks to you, I suspect, and Randy, is it? Go, home. Don't leave the baby alone; and hug him for me." Della's crying started to take over.

_Of course_, thought Paul, she would be worried about someone else. "I woke my landlady, Honey, just like you always told me to do. She's with him. He wants you to come to some play of his this weekend… some…

"It's a pageant, Daddy, a school pageant."

"Yeah and he only wants you, Beautiful," every time he looked at his son, completely bewildered by him, he thanked God for Della Street.

"I know," she smiled even though she was crying; she loved that little boy. "Aunt Della will be there."

Paul stood for a moment smoking, "Perry's a stupid bastard, sweetheart. And I have promised to kick his ass when he has the nerve to come home."

Paul heard the tears through the door. In his mind he could see that delicate, sunny face now tear-stained and it broke his heart. No woman ever had, or ever could, get to him like Della Street, his friend for almost 20 years who teased and looked after him like a big _and_ little sister. A woman so full of love she had taken on half the care of his illegitimate son as if he were her own child.

Months later after a few scotch and sodas, when Perry had momentarily left their dinner table to talk with a colleague, Paul admitted to Della that it was a good thing she didn't let him in that night. They would have done something stupid and irreparable—he would have, he said, _seen_ to it. Della had put her hand out and stroked the cuff of his blazer, smiling.

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The next morning when Perry called Della at the office, she had no choice but to speak to him; there were so many work related questions.

"Della. Are you…alright?"

"That's relative, Boss. There are several things you have to look over before we can file briefs I'll…"

"Della, I'm coming home tonight."

"Don't rearrange your social calendar on my account. I can have these couriered to you for tom-…"

"Della, I said that I'm coming home. I'm coming home tonight. I have to see you."

Della smoothed her skirt and sat slowly in his chair. Her sleepless, tear-filled night only showed the tiniest bit around her eyes. Now in her mid-40s she didn't look 35. Unfortunately she felt about 65 this morning.

"It's over."

Della's heart had stopped. "We're over?"

Perry was silent for a moment, stunned, "Of course not, Della. We'll _never_ be over."

"Don't make that assumption, Counselor."

Perry didn't know what to say to her so he told her the truth, "Baby, I'm sorry, _so_ sorry."

"Who is she?"

"Just a girl."

"Right," Della's voice was low as she exhaled her cigarette smoke. She never smoked in the office thought Perry. "A student?"

"Not quite that young," he tried to make a joke to his friend but recognized he was hurting his lover.

"No someone with whom I've been working."

"She sounded young."

"She's 29, a very promising lawyer."

Ahhh... another lawyer, thought Della.

"I guess I should have gone back and finished law school when you offered; seems as if you were trying to tell me something, Counselor. So, another young lady lawyer…"

Perry just hoped she didn't ask her name; or what she looked like.

"What can I do, Della? What can I do to make you feel better?"

"If only it were that easy, my love…"

Della's voice was a pale mist and her obvious affection for him, even on the morning after his betrayal, made Perry ache.

"Della, I just want to hold you," he whispered.

"I'm trying so hard to understand how you could do this to me," Della was crying softly.

"I'm trying myself."

In his voice she could hear it; he wasn't being flippant. He meant it.

"Didn't hurting me even occur to you?"

"It's hard to explain, Della. I guess men have tried for centuries to come up with the reason they can sleep with someone when they adore someone else."

Please Baby, he thought to himself, don't ask too many questions.

"Would you have cheated on me… if we were married?"

Unfortunately, from years of experience, the few she would ask would be good ones. Perry took a drag on his cigarette she could hear it, hear that he was now wondering about this himself.

"No. No, Della, I don't suppose I would have."

Della took a long breath.

Please no more, Baby, he thought.

"_He seems to wander around a lot at night."_

"How long, Perry?"

Perry knew what she hoped he would say, what she wanted him to say, what he wanted to be able to say. But he couldn't so he was silent.

Della started to cry, which she had promised herself she wouldn't do. At least he wasn't going to lie to her.

"Oh, my love…" her voice held a sob and Perry winced. "How long?"

After a few moments he managed to get it out, "About two months…just dinner at first…then..."

Perry could feel her shock through the wires; felt his own when he actually said it out loud.

This woman, on the other end of the phone was his entire life; he worshipped her and if she ever left him he wasn't sure what he might do. If anything ever happened to her he couldn't go on living—that he knew for sure. So how could he do this to her?

Perry remembered the first time he lay in a bed with Della and how time seemed to stop. When he first met her he knew that he would never be lonely again; they were part of one another from the very first day and it both comforted and terrified him.

Being so sick a few years ago aged him; aged both of them in a way. Gray hair, and much heavier he got back to D.C. that September and was so lonely for her that he couldn't stand it. There was Laura, young, resembling Della, seemingly safe because of her marriage even if it was fractured.

Seemingly like Della she had made herself available without chasing him. Now it was clear that she was nothing like Della. Spoiled and demanding she was also painfully immature and in the ardor of youth thought he belonged to her. They fought bitterly after she hung up the phone and he ended their relationship immediately, calling her a taxi.

Dispatching Laura had been easy; she had made it easy by lying and by purposely hurting Della. Mending the broken heart of his favorite person in the world, however, was going to be much harder.

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For a long time Della was unable to speak.

"Are you there, Baby?" Perry asked her so quietly it almost couldn't be heard.

"I'm not sure _where_ I am right now and please don't call me Baby when," Della paused fighting back tears, "When you can't possibly mean it, Perry."

Perry was sitting on the edge of their bed, his head in his hands holding the phone with his massive shoulder. There was no way to fix this right now he realized, no way to make her feel better. He would feel rotten for a good, long while and he deserved to but she did not.

"Della I know that I can't fix this right now but I do mean it. You are my Baby; you always have been and always will be."

Della took a deep breath, "Perry, are you in love with this girl?"

"I feel an attraction to her, affection for her, but nothing that approaches love; and certainly nothing like what I feel for you."

Della found herself laughing at this; it was not a pretty laugh and it alarmed Perry a bit.

"I know what that sounded like, Della, and yet it's true. I can't tell you why men do this, I…"

"You're not 'men,' I've always thought you as so much better than any man we know…you were my… hero."

That Della Street now thought less of him as a man was retribution almost too harsh to bear.

"Della," he almost cried out when she said it, her pain was now so vivid to him.

"Della, I cherish you; you are everything to me. I don't expect you to see how that's possible right now just as I don't see how it's possible that I've done this… But it is true and I want you to keep that in your mind."

"You know, Perry, this is not what I expected of my life. But I've accepted it because I honestly believed that your love for me made up for…" Della couldn't finish.

"Della, I promise you that I will never do this to you again. I promise you."

"Well, keep this in _your_ mind, Perry. I won't be one of _those_ women. Regardless of how much I love you and God knows I don't think any woman has ever loved a man the way I love you—Héloïse didn't love Abélard this much. But I won't be one of those women."

"I understand."

"Are you sure that you're not in love with her?"

"She's confused right now. I think I felt…sorry for her mostly."

Ah, Perry's attraction to the helpless woman would never abate. From the endless parade of tear-stain, scandal-worn, always attractive, women who came through the office to Laura and now Georgetown, Perry could not resist a damsel in distress.

Maybe she should start going that helpless route, thought Della. Be the girl who twists her ankle as the murderer approaches for a change instead of the sturdy gal Friday who always helps catch the murderer; instead of the kind of woman who would inspire Perry to say, "Della, try and think like a woman for a minute."

"You felt sorry for her?"

"Yes, Della…"

"Perry," Della choked on her tears. "When do you feel sorry for me?"

Still sitting on edge of the bed, chain smoking, head hanging, perhaps the only thing that saved him was the sniffling she heard on the other end of the line.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thursday, November 2**__**nd**__**, 1967**_

_**LA County Airport**_

Perry came home that afternoon, catching a plane after his last lecture. Della was going to let Paul pick him up at the airport but the way he had been fuming and sputtering it didn't seem like a good idea to leave those two alone.

Della sat in the car waiting and watching two halves of the coin: the travelers who were leaving loved ones behind and loved ones waiting in their cars to reclaim their weary wanderers. How many women were sitting in their cars right now awaiting, in their cases, a husband who had succumbed to arrogance, or promiscuity or the fear of loneliness, illness and age and the lure of a younger woman?

When he came out with his bag, usual exit, she was so happy to see him, so happy that he was home that if it had been physically possible she would have kicked herself in the behind. As much as he had hurt her all that she wanted to do was hold and be held, to cuddle up next to him and run away with him to the beach.

Della had moved over to the passenger side by the time he got to her car and even when he got in she didn't look up, she couldn't. With her dark hair behind her ears and that soft ivory sweater with the big collar underneath a creamy ivory coat with brown trim, a slim brown pencil skirt and her heels she was nothing short of exquisite.

"Thank you for picking me up," Perry didn't know where to go after that so he settled on chit chat. "I half expected Paul."

"Half?"

"Actually I was a little afraid it would be Paul."

Della nodded but kept looking straight ahead.

"That's why I'm here—I'd hate to see one of those pretty blue eyes all purple."

"Don't joke."

"I'm not joking at all. I've been trying to figure out how to keep him away from you until he calms down."

"He has promised to let me have it and I don't think for a moment that he's kidding."

"Well, we have a child now together, you see," Della tried to keep it light but even she was stumbling against the wall she had constructed.

Perry smiled sadly at her.

"Maybe it's time, Della."

"For?"

"For us to get married."

Della finally turned to stare at him, incredulous at how insensitive, how thoughtless and how self-absorbed even the best of men could be.

"Why? To finally have a family? Are you under the impression that at 45 I could get pregnant? Because, Perry, that's not going to happen. So if you want a family now," Della had to stop and cover her mouth with her hand. "Could you drive, please?"

Perry started the car and put it in gear, tears in his own eyes. He was only making this worse, only hurting her more. Concentrating on the road he tried to strategize. Then he heard her sonorous voice, very softly.

"If that's what you want, then you need to go back to Georgetown. If that's what you want, Perry, then go get it. Actually I would understand; our timing was just off," Della tried to laugh a little to fight the tears that were about to overwhelm her. But she did mean what she said. If that's what would make him happiest, she would accept it.

"But I don't want to be kept around because of obligation or, worse, because you don't want to lose a great secretary."

Perry could feel his heart break for her. There was nothing he could think of to say to make her feel better, her pain was far more profound than he could have imagined.

"Let's go away this weekend, tomorrow after work. Let's…"

"I can't. Jr. has a performance Saturday morning and he reminds me every single day about it. I'm not disappointing a little boy who loves me because you think taking me away for a weekend special will make me feel better about you _screwing_ some 25 year-old for a few months behind my back."

Perry nearly drove off the road. In the 18 years he had known Della Street, he had heard her say several "damns," a handful of "Hells" and once she had called someone who had done something to _him_ a "son-of-a-bitch." But even that was just last year.

This was clearly intended to shock him, even to hurt him, and it worked.

They had made a commitment to one another. He had asked her to live a certain kind of life, no, not outright, but by insinuation, by the little village of his needs, wants and desires around which he had built their relationship. Della had held up her end, more than held up her end. She had been his wife in every way that benefitted him; everyway but the one that would have benefitted her or any woman, marriage an institution to which they both knew in their hearts he was ill-suited.

Because of her personal devotion and professional prowess Della Street had worked much harder than any secretary would have been asked to work and because of her love for him did so unflinchingly.

When they did talk about this kind of thing every now and then, always in the dark over a cigarette, Della would kindly tick off the long list of things she felt that she got in return; although Perry noted to himself they were often just that, things. But that generosity of spirit and calm, non-nonsense approach to life were two important things that he prized about Della Street. There was no one like her in the world and no one knew this better than he did.

Perry drove them to the office, parking the car out front since he didn't intend for them to be more than an hour or two. Since it was only about 2:30 the sidewalk was busy, people passing by greeted them or stared at the handsome, famous couple.

Della waited for him to come to her side and open the door. When he took her arm to help her out of the car he pulled her into him placing his head next to her ear and whispering to her. Della's legs buckled. Wanting, but unable, to resist she fell the rest of the way into him burying her head in his chest and began to sob.

Perry covered her face with his arm for a moment then sat back in the car, sliding over and pulling her back down in behind him. Starting the car he shifted into gear then pulled her around to face him as she stayed against him crying. Perry didn't know where he was driving but he had to get them out of there, fast.

"Where, Della?"

"Beach."

"You've got it, Baby girl."

Holding her tight against him with one arm and driving with the other, he bent down hiding his lips in her curls and kissing her cheek. Perry found the 1 and headed toward Malibu without any other plan then eventually taking her to the little shack they loved for champagne and oysters and then to bed for whatever she would allow.

All that he knew was that she was going to let him help her forgive him. Della was going to make sure—just as she always did—that it was alright and he was going to make damn sure that she never had another moment of pain in her life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sunday, June 7****th****, 1992**

**Denver, Perry and Della's apartment **

Della had forgotten to pull the shades when she got up in the middle of the night and now a crescent of bright sunlight, like the blade of a sword, cut across their bed. Long awake Della wasn't worried about Perry who had his back to the window and was clutching her for dear life from behind.

Another Laura, another lawyer, another "lost love," another revelation about the man she thought she knew so well.

Not that he had had an affair; she knew that when it happened. But after never showing any interest in having children of their own, the idea that he may have fathered a child, however accidental, with another woman hurt like Hell; it was that simple. And bringing her to that woman's house, without any warning, only compounded the pain. Obviously she needed her to know but there were so many other ways of telling her. Of course, that would have meant actually telling her as opposed to allowing her to just watch it unfold. That was how Perry Mason felt most comfortable doing business, at work and at home.

In fairness to Perry, he had two affairs and the first, well, even she had to admit that they didn't have a definitive agreement about their relationship in 1957. Georgetown was another matter but she had gotten over that and fairly quickly.

It's just that…it's just that, she thought to herself confounded, these damn women keep coming back! And he seemed to think that it was the most normal thing in the world.

That was it! That was what bothered her. They kept coming back into his life and he let them; not only let them, but dragged her in to be part of it!

Funny, when he learned a few years back that she had been engaged at 18, there was simply no living with him. Della had been patient with him because his jealousy was oddly endearing. It was even kind of cute when after insisting on coming over that night, he wouldn't speak to her and went to sleep on the couch in the former guest room that she had made into a study for when he visited.

When Della found him in there that night, uncomfortably squished into the leather sofa with the plaid Woolrich blanket they used for picnics over his middle, reaching neither his feet nor his chin, she had to turn back out into the hall to laugh. Going to the linen closet she pulled out a decent blanket and pillow and returned.

"Okay, my little man," she said as if speaking to a little boy…because she _was_, "We can do better than this for you."

Della replaced the wool blanket with the good blanket and held the pillow over his head until he deigned to lift himself up, eyes shifting to look at her through a scowl. Then she tucked him in all around and got down on her knees next to him, crossing her arms on his chest and laying her head down. When he was petulant like this, she found him irresistible and couldn't stop smiling at him.

"This is not a humorous situation, Della."

"Oh, I knoooow,"Della replied, scowling herself for a change. "Very serious business, this."

"I'm frankly a little surprised by your callousness."

Della turned away for a few moments, her tipped toward the wall incredulous, but managing to keep her good humor. Biting her lip she turned back to regard him, stretched out uncomfortably on his back, head tucked into his shoulders like a turtle. Those beautiful eyes she loved so much, dark and hooded, and his paws drawn up to his chin, grasping the edge of the blanket.

"You sleep with him?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think …now." Perry was pouting and there was nothing Della loved more than Perry pouting—to an extent.

"Ho, ho!" Della laughed heartily at this. "You don't know what to think!"

Della pulled her robe tighter then leaned on her elbow on his chest. Secretly she was hoping he snapped out of this because she was very aroused by him tonight.

"You realize, of course, that this was a good 8 years before we met, right?"

"So? You were engaged to be married to a man, something you have refused to do with me for 40 years, and you never told me."

Della sat straight up, a very serious look on her face. "First of all, if any of your 'proposals' had ever been serious proposals of marriage I would have accepted. You know that and you know what I wanted."

Perry shifted his eyes to his hands.

"Yes, you'd better hang your head in shame," Della said a hand on her hip then continued softly. "Second, it was nothing more than a young girl's first love, crush really, and it didn't last 3 months.

It was not like I…say…had some sort of transgression of intimacy while we were together… with at least two women in two different cities; not including whatever you did in San Francisco, which I frankly don't even want to think about…so I don't."

Della pushed herself off the floor on the edge of the couch, hovering over him.

"It's different."

Perry, thought Della, you really ought to take the hint, love. There was always the chance she could start to get really angry. But when she looked at her little boy, so vulnerable, so hurt over such a small, almost non-existent thing…

"Yes, it is…_very_ different," Della's good humor was still intact but her point was not to be missed.

"Women are different from men."

"What tipped you off, Counselor?" Della's chin dipped.

"And you! You're above all other women, you're …just… above that's all."

"Oh boy," Della shook her head cackling, amazed at the man. "You must really be tired…"

"It's not like you to keep something like that from me; or anything from me, in fact."

"No, the secrets are your department, huh? Weeeell…" she leaned over him again kissing him a few times on his forehead, "If you think that this little nothing hurt… try on a bit of what you've put me through my love."

Della kissed him on the lips then left him there to pout.

After an hour of reading and waiting in their bed she decided to go rescue her little fellow; might even be fun, she thought being her generous self. Della brightened her make up slightly and dashed through a plume of cologne.

Stepping into the huge walk-in closet, from her lingerie chest she plucked the negligee he most often left out for her. A simply cut, floor-length gown in pale pink—the color he loved best on her—made from the most gossamer of silk, edged in hand-tatted pale pink lace, with her signature high slit on the right leg, and a very steep drop in the front that they had found in Paris.

When Della opened the study door she burst out laughing. Perry was lying in the exact same position in which she had left him, scowling and hands still on the edge of the blanket which was pulled to his chin like a child. Sitting on the arm of a club chair and leaning her elbow on the bookcase she shook her head at him. At least he had shifted his eyes toward her when she had crossed those astounding legs in front of him _very_ suggestively.

"Well?"

"What?"

"Do you have it in your mind to pout all night? Because I, for one, can think of better things to do."

Della wandered over to the couch.

"You know," she said her voice lower than seemed possible, "I was going to crawl in there but it's just too small to be any…fun."

Winking at him, she grabbed the blanket and pulled it back. Then she stuck out her hand and helped pull him up. They walked to the bedroom, Perry trailing behind her ram-rod straight and silent, still holding her hand. Della had left one very dim light on and when she turned to put him in bed he encircled her waist with both hands and pulled her to him.

"It's not fair," Perry said his voice exceedingly deep.

"What?"

"This negligee… it's taking unfair advantage."

Perry sat on the bed and pulled her between his knees, luxuriating in the satin covering her tiny hips.

"My one and only love…"

"_Now_ I'm your only love."

Della, rolling her eyes, reached down pushing the buttons through the silk until his chest hair was visible in a line down his belly. Letting his head fall against her hip, she ran her hand inside the pajama top, first across his wide, barrel chest then down over his belly. After all of these years she knew exactly how her hands were most effective on him and his moans came very quickly.

Very soon Della was going to need his naked chest against her own and when Perry ran his hands under her nightgown pulling it up she was relieved to take it from him and lift it the rest of the way off. Della clicked off the lamp as Perry put his hands on her hips, sliding her panties down slowly, looking up into her eyes the entire time.

"So, am I?"

Perry kissed her belly where the moonlight fell across it, trailing his tongue down from her belly button.

"Arrrrre you?"

No one, thought Perry, had a voice and manner of speaking sexier than Della Street when she wanted to, "Your one and only love?"

"You must know that you have an incredible amount of nerve to continually ask me that," Della laughed grabbing the back of his head a little roughly, he noticed with delight.

"I like the answer," he said against her, as he bit her hip lightly then ran his hands behind her, making a deep little noise escape from her lips.

"_That's_ what I mean, Perry," Della said steadying herself by holding his shoulders.

Perry Mason, 75 years old and barely looking 60, watched her with his little boy grin, as her eyelids started to flutter. Della stood there in front him, completely naked. The only man, in fact, in front of whom she had ever been naked, not that he needed to know that now; or ever.

"You are, and have always been, my one and only love…and you know it to be the truth, don't you?"

"Mmm…perhaps, Miss Street, perhaps I do," Perry nodded.

_DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason_

Well, Della thought, I've weathered another one.

Of course it was not without damage and littered about the room were the remnants; a wedge out of her tender heart on the window sill; a slice of her soul behind the door; the private tears cried in the solitude of the shower and tub.

Della felt some lovely, bristly kisses on her bare shoulder then felt him asleep against her again.

"Perry…Perry…" Della was reaching around with her hand to the back of his cheek, rubbing it with the backs of her knuckles. "C'mon now."

"It's Sunday, isn't it?"

"Yes, Perry. And it's time to face the piper." Casting her eyes over her shoulder see saw his big, sleepy eyes pop open.

"Is Kaitlynn your daughter?"

"Della, I need coffee to do this."

"No you don't. You do need something else and I personally know that you have them…and where you keep them."

"Della, really."

"Is Kaitlynn your daughter."

"I don't know."

"Perry this is me, the woman who has watched your powers of deduction first hand for 43 years."

Perry turned her toward him, pulled the sheet and blanket up around them and held her close.

"At the time Laura insisted that I was the father and I know she tried to get pregnant on purpose while we were sleeping together. I'm afraid that I might have caught her too late."

"Caught her?"

"You're too much of a lady to understand, Dear, your reading material aside," Perry smiled indulgently.

"To keep you?"

"Yes. But she never listened to me and, consequently, never understood me. Not even death will part you and I, at least on my end, and I won't be blackmailed; and that's what that it would have been, blackmail. Lawyers, even young ones, understand that word and it scares them, as it should.

Perhaps it was unchivalrous but I couldn't even entertain the idea of not having you in my life."

"I may be biased but I think it would have been far more unchivalrous if you had let a young woman trap you into leaving someone who had devoted her life to you."

"Devoted being an understatement…"

"How did this whole mess begin anyway? I remember, at the time, not wanting to know too much more than I already knew."

"Innocently. Dinner after a committee meeting. Supposed to be several of us, turned out to be just me," Perry was embarrassed. "I admit I enjoyed the flirtation. Then I was in bed with her. And again. And again. And…"

"Okay Casanova, I get it," Della titled her chin up.

"I was surprised to find myself in bed with her. I was surprised she was attracted to me."

"I don't buy that first part, Counselor; not at all. But I'll give you the second part. I always told you that you sell yourself short that way. Always," he could hear sympathy in her voice.

"Why haven't you ever insisted she find out?" Della was genuinely curious.

"Because everyone gets hurt if it turns out to be me; when it turns out to be me."

"Yesterday was hard for you, wasn't it? The whole idea of this wedding has been hard for you."

Perry was silent.

"Perry," Della took her arms from around his neck and placed her hands on his chest.

"I'm not going to lie to you. The thought that you have a child with another woman…" Della tried to keep smiling but the tears were too strong. "That is as bad as it gets…for me anyway."

"I know, Baby." Perry held her tightly now, stroking her curls.

"But I also know that you would have taken every precaution so this wouldn't happen. I know that you would never, even accidentally, let this happen. I know that, okay?" Perry nodded. "As long as you know that if you had ever wanted to know for sure and if she turned out to be your daughter …well, I would have supported that. I still would. We would…welcome her into our lives."

"Della, everyone knows that you want what is inherently best for the people you love, even at your own expense. But this, my darling, is best. Kaitlynn adores Max and he has been wonderful to her. And we have one another, which is all I ever wanted. I think that we all got very lucky she looks like Laura."

Della wondered if she and Laura were the only ones worried about recessive genes and if someone should explain the concept to Kaitlynn.

"It's just that, Perry, the way you just all let this unfold on me instead of sitting me down, like you would have any _client_, and told me the truth."

"I know."

"You know you can tell me how important I am to you all day long but you need to occasionally act like it's true and as you get older…" Della shook her head.

"Della, I will be better."

Della laughed, a sardonic tone in her voice when she said, "Well, that's not a bet I'd ever take."

"Why didn't you at least warn me that Laura was 'Georgetown?'"

"I needed you so much this weekend, to come with me, to be with me. I thought maybe if you knew, you wouldn't."

"Hah," Della gave an odd laugh. "Funny, after all of these years, you're the one who doesn't trust me."

"What can I say to make this better?"

"Why do you always ask me that? Do I have to hurt _and_ fix everything?" Della said in exasperation, only partially kidding. "Can't you take over some of this?"

Perry Mason thought about the debt of gratitude he would never, ever be able to pay. "I guess I don't know what to say."

"There's nothing to say, Perry. I just have to make my peace with it. Again." Della's eyes were weary and filled with fresh tears. "It's not like the affair is new or recent; the only difference is that you're probably the father of a 24 year-old woman."

"Can I help in any way?"

She shook her head.

"I'll work it out. I always do. Any more surprises, anyone lurking around the corner?"

"No. There is no one else, Della."

"No one I have to worry about from San Francisco say?"

"You know about the women I dated there. I don't anticipate any trouble…" mistake, Mason, he thought.

Della threw her head back sarcastically. "Are you kidding? We can't walk out of the house without someone being murdered, Perry."

"Twice, Della, that's all."

"No, two women; not twice."

"Yes."

"You know, I know that you know that you're the only woman I've ever loved."

"Perry I don't know anything for sure except that I'm not 40 anymore. I'm 70 and honey," she said over her shoulder. "Nothing snaps back the way it used to."

"Speaking of not being 40 anymore…" Perry said, smiling.

"Seeee…" she gave an evil, little laugh. "I can be cruel, too."

Perry started laughing, bending his head into her neck for a little bite.

"Ouch!"

"I have been up for 20 minutes. May I please excuse myself now for a moment, Miss Street?" Perry was laughing heartily now.

"Am I stopping you?"

"Well, with those beautiful legs wrapped so tight around me, I would have to say that yes, yes you are stopping me. And you're going to be sorry very soon…"

As Perry left the bed, Della turned on her belly toward the window, calling after him, "Don't forget my coffee…"

"Do I ever, Miss Street? You bring it at work, I bring it at home."

Perry was down the hall when he turned back to get his glasses, stopping short in the doorway. Quietly, to herself, Della was still on her tummy, dwarfed and small in the middle of that huge bed, crying into her arms. She had, as ever, made it too easy for him to feel better while she still hurt.

Taking off his robe and slippers, Perry lifted the sheet and blanket on her side and when she didn't move, he knew she wanted him there. Crawling in he stroked her back before laying his body over hers, covering her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"_You're_ sorry…oh, Della…" Perry extended his left arm overhead, encircling her, reaching around to hold her elbow. With his other hand on the back of her head he put his lips against her ear, speaking quietly to her until she had finally exhausted herself and feel back to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Saturday, June13th, 1992**_

_**Denver, The Parrish Mansion**_

Perry stood in the corner of the ballroom in the Parrish house being used for the reception, nursing his second short single malt. He could use at least two more but thought it best to maintain control today.

Watching as Della worked the room with Ken, who had been invited to this second wedding, she was dazzling. Champagne in hand she was making a small group of people including Kaitlynn laugh, looking over at him regularly, winking or smiling. As the young woman walked away she and Della held hands until they couldn't anymore. Perry searched the bottom of his scotch glass.

"Trying to read the tea leaves?" Laura Parrish's voice interrupted his worried, self-pitying thoughts. The limpid brown eyes had lost their innocence, interesting how some women could turn that on and off at will.

"The lovely mother of the bride; this is much nicer than the first attempt," Perry shifted slightly when she sidled up to him. "No one's been murdered…as yet. Of course, as Della always says, since we are present, the day is young."

"How have you been, Perry? In all of this we haven't really had five minutes together. You look wonderful," Laura was on her hip toward him.

Perry moved slightly left, still watching his love. "Quite well; difficult week, more than expected but other than a bruised shoulder and some personal complications…"

Laura watched the floor until she felt he had re-directed those blue lighthouses of his away from her. "We were speaking quite often when you were in San Francisco and then…"

"Laura, you were calling quite frequently. I'm not sure how much we were speaking," Perry smirked when he caught the angry edges around her eyes.

"Why did you leave the court, Perry? You and I know you just don't do that. You were expected to go on… well, as far as you wanted politically."

"I'm extremely happy to be back doing what I love to do, Laura. It's been a very happy and fulfilling seven years."

"Someone else could have handled Della's case. I could have done it with you overseeing. I offered."

"I appreciated it. But my place was by Della's side and even if I had loved the job, which I assure you was not the case," an emphatic Mason raised his voice slightly, "I would have left it anyway for her. No... San Francisco, becoming a justice…mistakes in every conceivable way."

"Perry is she the one? Is Della the one you told me about so long ago—the reason you wouldn't…well…?"

Perry turned to face her, fixing his dark gaze on her. "Yes, Laura. Della was the one at home to whom I was, and remain, devoted."

Laura snorted a bit at that, "Well, it's always a little hard to take declarations of love for another woman seriously when they're made in your bed by a naked man who has made love to you all night, several nights in a row."

Perry was brought up short by her honesty. What an ass he was, what any man was who thought that loving someone made up for hurting them.

"She really did know, then."

"What does that mean, Laura?"

"The other day, after the trial I asked her to 'thank you,' she offered that I do it myself."

"She did tell me."

"I told her I couldn't, that there was so much that she didn't know about us."

"You what?" Perry raised his voice, angry.

That part Della had left out. He thought immediately of Laura Robertson and the conversation she had forced on Della in the same way.

"She said she knew, in fact, she said that she 'really knew.' I wasn't certain what that meant, since she was crying at the time. But then we hugged, as women do I suppose…" Laura didn't finish her thought, or didn't know how to finish her thought.

"I'm still devoted to her, Laura, my enormous, unforgiveable mistakes to the contrary."

"Della Street. Your secretary…I don't think I would ever…Perry Mason and his secretary," Laura was not (just) being nasty, she was genuinely bemused.

"I prize a talented secretary over anything and Della is the best I've ever seen; the best of whom I've ever even heard," Perry smiled brightly, not a trace of defensiveness.

"We just belong together. I knew it almost the first moment I met her; the way she teased me, read my thoughts, her intuition and fluid, open mind," Perry was still watching her intently from across the room and now she was watching back, making eyes at him, trying to make him laugh.

You know, she has every great attribute any person can have and not a single flaw. Not one, and not just because I'm in love with her so I'm biased but if you ask anyone who knows her they will say the same thing. She's the only flawless person they've ever known."

"My goodness," Laura was genuinely taken aback. Having known Perry Mason a long time, she knew what it took to elicit the tamest compliment. "It really _is_ Della. I mean it _really_ is Della"

"It was always Della. And it will always be Della," he said looking at his love who had been studying Perry and his visitor from afar. When he turned back to her Laura Parrish was shocked; shocked to see those enormous blue orbs filled with tears.

Della saw it, too, and appeared at Perry's shoulder, gently holding his bad arm. With her most genuine and lovely smile Della complimented her one-time rival, "Laura, this has been a lovely wedding. I don't know how you managed it after that fiasco but well done. Kaitlynn is so happy."

"Thank you, Della. You're too kind. My daughter thinks so, too, you seemed to have charmed her completely."

"She's a lovely girl, Laura. You and Max must be terribly proud of her. You're a very lucky lady."

"Thank you. Well, many guests to see…I am glad to have finally met you, Della. Especially seeing how important you are to Perry and now _our_ daughter."

Laura regarded her rival with a cautious smile and left. They were both quite relieved when she left them.

"May I have this dance, young lady?" Della let Perry lead her to the dance floor.

"Are you alright, Perry?" Della couldn't help but be worried any time he got teary.

"Not really, my mistakes keep haunting the most important person in my life.I don't know how much more she can take," eyes still filled with tears he looked down at her and drew his finger across her luscious lower lip.

"Not much," she agreed.

Perry kept his gaze focused on her, the love so evident in his eyes she just shook her head before snuggling in, closing the gap. Breathing heavily from pain and, she supposed, the stress of the week he clasped her small frame.

There was something about Della's eyes, everyone saw it, mentioned it. But when she looked at _him_ there was something special there, meant only for him. When it was missing his heart broke with a loneliness that felt like a small death. A few days ago, when it reappeared, he was overjoyed.

"Perry you're breathing heavy; let's sit."

Kaitlynn came over asking if she could see Della for a few moments and the two walked off, arms around each others' waists. Perry was anxiously analyzing the scene when Ken appeared by his side.

"I feel as if things are going on today, about which I am ignorant," the protégé said.

"They are indeed, Ken. They are indeed."

"Oh, good. At least I'm not paranoid."

When the girls returned it was more than clear they had both been crying. Kaitlynn asked Della if she could steal Perry for a dance, and Della handed him over with a beatific smile. Ken immediately stepped in to take Della for a whirl. A parade of men started tapping him on the shoulder to cut in but each time Ken smiled apologetically, shook his head no and kept right on dancing.

Perry liked that boy the moment he walked into his class.

Dancing with Kaitlyn Perry kept an eye on Della as she glided, letting poor Ken think he was leading her when it was really Della expertly leading him. That was her way. Quietly, deftly she took care of everything and everyone around her, no one the wiser until after the fact. Maybe even she didn't know that she was doing it; he wondered sometimes.

Perry continued to watch the fruits of Della's labor. For the past several months she had been teaching Ken to dance at the office in the evening.

"It's criminal that no one knows how to dance anymore; to do the fox trot, the two-step, to waltz," she had sighed. "I'm going to teach you so that you _really_ know how to woo a girl."

When Ken balked, Perry shook his head with darkened eyes. "Young man, I'm not too crazy about you having your arms around her for any length of time but listen to the woman."

Della had patted his chest and smiled up at him. "Even with that knee, no one dances like you." Perry Mason grabbed her and swept her around the room, impossibly elegant and graceful for a large gentleman of 75 with a crippled knee.

"You know what they say about men who dance well…" his eyes twinkled at her eliciting the giggle of a mere girl.

"Boy do 'they' know what they're talking about," Della said not quite low enough.

Ken was embarrassed to witness a rare public display of affection between these two intensely private people and yet, at the same time, it made him feel warm to be part of their private world. Watching that brief scene he suddenly knew more about the two of them than he had imagined in the years he knew them.

"Well," Ken said reminding them he was there, "My generation does dance, you know?"

"Your dancing is fine, honey. It's fun," Della laughed at Perry harrumphing. "But dancing the way we used to dance is ever so much more…" Della dropped her voice even lower, shook her curls slightly while giving Perry a glance that was pure sin, "… _intimate_."

With that she walked into the other room to change music, leaving the boys shifting on their feet and rubbing the backs of their necks. "Jeez, boss… what was she like when she was 30?"

"Exactly the same, son," Perry Mason laughed heartily. "_Exactly_ the same."

"You're a lucky guy."

"Yes, I had an envious best friend who used to tell me that all of the time. And neither of you knew the half of it."

_DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason_

Concerned about his shoulder, Kaitlynn walked Perry back to the table while Ken and Della stayed on the floor for another spin. Perry caught Della's eye and they shared a little smirk, Della rolling her eyes but with a kind smile.

"Uncle Perry, how long have you and Della been together," Kaitlyn asked.

"Since 1949, honey," he smiled lovingly at her.

"I can see why. She's incredible, sweet and kind but…," Kaitlynn was at a loss.

"Sassy," her uncle finished for her.

"Yeah! I've never met anyone like her. Why didn't you ever get married?"

Perry studied Kaitlynn, a little stunned.

"Della always turned me down but," he paused, "Not because she didn't want to be married, although in the beginning she didn't. She didn't see how she could do the work she loved and be my wife; not back then anyway. Those were very different times. And I think she always sensed that I was ambivalent about marriage."

"So you've just lived together?"

Perry shook his head, uncomfortable being grilled, and yet wanting somehow to discuss it with her.

"No, we only recently did that. Nice young ladies didn't do that."

Kaitlynn laughed at him. "Never wanted kids?"

Perry stiffened. "Della did. She wanted them very much and…"

"I know. She told me. She must love you an awful lot, Uncle Perry," Kaitlynn looked sideways at him. "It doesn't sound exactly like a fairy tale life the way you tell it. But boy… it sure does when she tells it!"

Perry looked at her. "Where did you two run off to anyway?"

"I wanted to get to know her better. She's been so really sweet to me. I know I should have been mingling Mom was very clear about my duties. But Della's so smart and so… loving. I just couldn't pull myself away from her."

"I know exactly how you feel, kiddo'," Perry nodded.

Perry leaned over and kissed her. "What were you two discussing anyway, not that it's an old man's business what two young women gossip about but I like to keep informed."

"Well…" the way Kaitlynn paused made Perry's chest tighten. "No one will talk to me about it and I feel as if Della and I are in the same boat, kind of…"

"Kaitlynn, please… what did you ask her?"

"I asked her if she had heard the rumors. I've certainly heard enough over the years," Kaitlynn looked down before continuing. "I asked Della if you were really my father."

Perry couldn't breathe and thought for a moment he was having a replay of his heart attack in 1990.

"What did she say?" asked Perry stoically.

"She said that it was no one's fault and no one knew for sure but that, yes, she thought I probably was your daughter and told me part of the story. I'm guessing that there's more."

Perry hadn't moved a muscle, standing there focused on the dance floor. Kaitlynn took his hand.

"Was she alright?" he asked.

"Well, I think that she was still…very hurt but she said that she could live it if…if I'm the result."

Perry lurched forward in his chair.

"Are you okay, Uncle Perry?" Kaitlynn was crouching in front of him.

Perry nodded, keeping his head down. In seconds he saw her high heels in front of him. Ken returned Della to Perry with a flourish, turning her in a half circle.

"Perry what is it?" Della was bent over him, her arm around his shoulder.

"Nothing, I'm fine," he looked up at her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Well," said Kaitlynn, "I'd better mingle. I have been very bad about it."

Kaitlynn grabbed Della for a hug. "I love you. Thank you…for everything…"

"Oh sweetheart, I love you, too. Be happy angel," Della whispered.

When Kaitlynn let go they both had tears in their eyes. Perry marveled at what a remarkable person he loved.

Ken was about to ask Perry about what they were witnessing when an _extremely_ lovely young woman he recognized from Jake's soap, with what Perry conjectured was about 50 inches of leg, approached Ken to admire his dancing. With the same flourish, and glancing gratefully at Della over his shoulder, Ken led her to the dance floor.

"I don't know if he's ready for _that_," laughed his boss. "What she doesn't know is that it was you who made him look so good out there."

"And what she doesn't know won't hurt her, right?" Della looked down.

"I don't suppose that I could inveigle another dance out of you?"

"No, Chief. You need to sit and rest. But you could hold me close," there was his sparkle.

"No, come on young lady," Perry pulled her up for a change, making her laugh.

Perry held her as close as he could, onlookers be damned. With his left hand he caressed the small of her back while his right hand held hers, bringing it up to his lips to kiss then pulling both of their hands into his chest.

After they saw Kaitlynn and Jake off, and sent Ken back on his fishing trip, Perry and Della got in their car to head home.

"What's you pleasure, Miss?"

"Mmmmmm? Home, I think."

"You sure? You look so lovely I'd be honored to take you out."

"Well, thank you. But we could use a little time alone together, I think."

"Miss Street, nothing pleases me more than time alone with you. As long as you know how lovely you look today. But then I've always loved you in white."

"Weeelll…" she said smiling, "Someday maybe you'll see me in white for real."

"Do I detect," said Perry hesitantly, "The possibility of a paradigm shift on Miss Street's opinion of marriage?"

"No. You detect a shift in Miss Street's feelings about Mr. Mason's suitability for the institution of marriage."

"You think I may finally be ready."

"We'll see, Counselor. We'll see."

Getting excited now, Perry turned to Della watching her closely as she took the curves, smoothly, efficiently, speeding up ever so slightly as she turned into them; once again in complete control.


	7. Chapter 7

_**December 31**__**st**__**, 1996, Los Angeles**_

Sitting at her beloved vanity, burl wood and glass, sleek, from 1920s Paris, Della was primping for The Southern California Children's Hospital's New Year's benefit. Increasingly their holidays were defined by the charities for which they both worked and while Della found it extremely fulfilling, there were some nights, like tonight, that she would have preferred a quiet celebration for two.

Perry had already peeked in to bring her a martini and grab a handkerchief when he was taken aback. Leaving aside his bias, which admittedly was hard to do, he knew that in a room filled with movie stars Della Street Mason would outshine them all.

"My God," he said, stopped in his tracks, "You look…dazzling."

"Thank you, Dear," she smiled at him, taking a sip of her martini.

Della did go out of her way for events, picking beautiful gowns—evening wear always looked lovely on her anyway—and paying particular attention to her hair, make-up and all of the little details about which a man never thought. After all, the photos would go into the file to be dragged out at some inappropriate time. The right clutch and appropriate amount of jewelry were important—in this case a black, beaded, clutch with pave diamond clam-shell clasp, simple drop diamond earrings and the 22-ct. diamond necklace Perry bought her from Harry Winston for their first wedding anniversary.

Tonight she wore a spectacular, full-length, black, Ralph Lauren tuxedo gown in with satin lapels, deep décolletage and the requisite slit up the right leg. Yes, even the modest Miss Street, if pressed would acknowledge the viability legs and she wisely played to them, which tonight meant custom-made panty hose in the sheerest black and a pair of black satin Charles Jourdan pumps that would have scared an acrophobic.

Holding her martini and giving herself the once-over she noticed the dress was almost loose since she had lost a few pounds. Although the worry was she hadn't been trying. Della had not been feeling well, and although she hadn't mentioned much to Perry she could tell he had noticed.

This year, 1997, frightened Della. "What, oh, what, my love, do you have in store for me?" Della's eyes were wide.

Every decade marked by a "7" meant trouble with, and for, Perry Mason; no one knew this better than his loyal secretary. In 1957 some pre-mid-life crisis sent him back into the arms of Laura Robertson for a weekend, despite the fact that he and Della had been quite happily together for several years.

In 1967 another Laura splintered their relationship while he commuted to Georgetown University to teach. At the time she didn't know who it was, Della just referred to her as Georgetown. Despite understanding the treacherous combination of Perry's appetite, the balm of a much younger woman on the male ego, and the fact that since they weren't married he had felt that there was perhaps some wiggle room morally, it hurt like Hell.

The incredible debacle that was 1977, when Perry closed the practice and ran off to San Francisco leaving her behind, sent them down into eight long years of Hell.

In 1987 there was the return of Laura Robertson, Perry's original lost love. Della could still feel the cold air that wrapped around her as she stood on the courthouse steps waiting for the verdict. Would Laura Robertson, after what she had done to him and all of his and Della's decades together, be able to corral him into staying to defend her? The answer, of course, was no; not even close…he said.

So what would it be in 1997?

Would one of those women he was with in San Francisco show up? Show up with a child? Show up being blackmailed or involved in a lawsuit? Show up as a murder suspect, or, if Della had her choice a victim? Who knew?

Della was about to turn 75 and her reserves were depleted. She flat-out could not take anymore. As it turned out, though, she would have to; in fact, Della Street Mason would have to take a great deal more this year.

Two things were going to catch up with her. First, the cigarettes, thousands and thousands of them over the years; and the second was the answer to a question that had plagued two families for 32 years.


	8. Chapter 8

_**August, 1997**_

_**Los Angeles, Brent, aka Bank of California, Building**_

Oh, those eyes.

Della had come out from their office where she had been laying down while Perry was out on a case with Ken. All she needed was a 30 minute nap but not while Perry was there. Not only did he wear his worry but he insisted, sweetly, on accompanying her so she could lay in his lap. Della had to admit it was, of course, comforting but then neither of them got anything done and she felt guilty.

As always, there were plenty of places for a lie down in their office. Della often had a good chuckle about this. Now that they had an entire floor in their old building, the Brent building, which had become the Bank of California Building, Perry had made certain that there were even more.

After Della became ill in the spring, poor Perry wanted to put a daybed in the office but she wouldn't hear of it. For one thing, she told him laughing he would make her recuperate at work instead of at home, just so he could always be with her. Perry did not laugh when she said this.

When the eminent and illustrious Perry Mason moved back to Los Angeles full-time in 1993 it was splashed on the front of every California newspaper, and featured on news and entertainment shows. "The Grand Old Legal Lion Comes Home," screamed the L.A. Times from the front page.

Della Street, long-time legal secretary to, and "companion" of, Mr. Mason was always pictured and mentioned, as well. The Masons still didn't publicly acknowledge their marriage in 1993 but they couldn't very well balk at being labeled a couple since they no longer hid their affection for one another and were making, as Perry said, quite a spectacle of themselves around town.

Della and Perry shared their office now and they loved it, even if they had to take turns using the phone so as not to disturb the other—well, it was primarily that booming courtroom voice of Perry's, which had grown deeper, louder and stronger as he aged.

Perry's desk was in the same spot it had always been and despite all of the space they had, Perry insisted Della's desk sit across from his so he could "see her pretty face any time" he looked up. Of course, she still found herself working cuddled next to him at his desk most of the time, especially since returning from her recuperation.

They moved the law library, easily the most comprehensive of any law firm in California, down the hall in the middle of the space. A few of Perry's select students from his classes at UCLA Law School were allowed to work in the library any time they wanted so it was often a busy place.

Mr. Mason was finally—grudgingly—allowing Miss Street to teach him about their extensive computer research network. When Mr. Mason was on the computer, the rest of the staff stayed as far away from him as they could get.

Perry remembered what his early days were like and all of the young lawyers in their employ had small private offices _on a window_. Gertie sat in reception with a younger version of herself who did all of the actual work. Old clients loved seeing "The Blonde Boop," as Perry had dubbed her and she could make anyone laugh with those frog eyes and constant surprise expressed in that Boop voice. But Gertie was capable of more than he could have imagined.

Perry dreaded telling Gertie, who wept if they delivered the wrong sandwich, that Della was seriously ill. Miraculously, instead of crumbling the 79-year old pulled herself up to her full 5'2" inches, set her face in stone and vowed to take care of Della the way Della had been watching out for her since 1949.

"She should have gotten rid of me that very first day, Perry," Gertie said in a rare use of his first name. "She should never have hired me back in '93. But that's Della. That's Della," Gertie's voice started to crack but when she saw the tears starting in his eyes she was shocked back into stone. "She came through in '77 and she _will_ come through this, too_…and I will watch out forher, Boss_."

Perry was touched by her after that; the way she toughened up, became a serious and fine manager and watched over their girl like a tiger watching over her cub. _No one_ saw Della Street if Gertie didn't think she was up to it, including Mr. Mason. If Della was resting when he came in from an appointment or court, Gertie would simply point to the law library.

"I'll come and get you when she's up," she'd say not even lifting her head from her work and Perry would dutifully turn and go work in the library until Gertie beckoned.

Ken had a large corner office and, someday, would take over Perry and Della's. They all hoped that Kelly Burger-Drake would finally leave the city's employ by then and join Ken to run the firm. Perry and Paul were working on her and after much coaxing Perry agreed to the eventual firm name of Mason, Malansky, & Burger-Drake. But only after Della repeatedly insisted that the addition of "Street" was totally inappropriate as she wasn't an attorney and, besides, Mason covered both of them, didn't it?

They were relieved Ken moved from Denver to rejoin them particularly after Della took ill. When they left Denver for good in 1993, after traveling back and forth between Denver and LA for years, he said that he wouldn't be far behind but that he needed time on his own to build his own reputation. Perry not only understood but admired the decision telling him it would make him a much better lawyer and more of an asset when he finally did come to LA. In truth, Perry felt ken could only outgrow his greenness if he was on his own for a while.

Ken had quite a bit of professional success in Denver and after years of chasing the wrong women found the right woman under his nose. He always said that he wanted to be like his mentor so no one was surprised when the right girl turned out to be his law clerk. Ken brought her to L.A. to have Perry and Della vet her, which Perry left strictly to his wife.

"Don't look at me!" he had said to Ken. "If Della likes her that's good enough for me."

"But Della likes everyone, Chief," Ken laughed condescendingly. "I need a sharp eye."

Perry turned to Ken genuinely astounded at his lack of lucidity then got an impish smile on his face, "How little you know her after all of these years—how little you know our Della Street."

Ken suddenly looked at Perry, terrified.

"Son, why do you think I would defend a gangster? In all of these years, you haven't been able to break the code?"

"What code?"

Perry threw himself back in his chair and guffawed.

"When we interview a client? Della's head movements…you've really never noticed?"

"I thought that was some kind of a tic…" Ken said thoroughly confused now.

Now Perry laughed until tears came to his eyes.

"Ken, when I want to know if a client is telling the truth I just look at her and she gives me one of three very quick movements…"

"That's why I thought they were tics…"

"C'mon…haven't you ever seen her do it any other time?"

"Well, when you're ordering food or….Ohhhhhh…."

"Exactly. Chin down for yes, chin left for no and chin up for unsure… or when she's fighting with me about something," Perry laughed. "Then at the end of an interview I say 'Well' and that's her cue—only times I've ever regretted taking a case when I have ignored that girl…never wrong."

Ken sat there sweating now, hand on the back of his neck until Della came out with a huge smile, proclaiming Tracy "divine." But he wasn't truly satisfied until he saw Della turn surreptitiously to Perry and give him a quick chin down with a smile.

Paul and Jake Brice, a second generation L.A. detective whose father had worked with Paul, Sr., Perry and Della and with whom they re-connected on their wedding day in 1993, were also working from their space. They had teamed to create Drake & Brice Investigators, Inc. and had about a sixth of Perry and Della's floor, right across the hall. Perry employed Drake & Brice full-time. Between that and their outside work they employed 5 full-time operatives, 3 part-time operatives and had a network of "stringers" from one end of the country to the other.

Perry and Della loved passing the huge portrait of Paul Drake, Sr. that hung just outside their door every day. Although, since becoming ill, Perry had caught his wife tearfully staring up at it increasingly, which worried him.

Paul and Kelly had three little mouths to feed and said that they weren't done, yet. Their twin girls four year-old Peri and Della, worshipped their namesake "grandparents" and comforted Della even when she felt her worst, coming for sleep overs, picnics, pool parties and barbeques and sometimes to just curl up on the couch with their "grandma."

Then there was three year-old Paul who was as much a hellion as you would expect the grandson of Paul Drake, Sr. to be. Recently, "Grandpa Perry" was chosen, by default—everyone else was busy—to pick up the young man at nursery school after he was sent home for jumping out from behind things and slapping women on their bottoms. Not classmates, mind you, the teacher told Perry Mason, but teachers and he was not being sent home for doing it rather for refusing to stop doing it in the future. By the looks of her, Perry thought she should be flattered that anyone even wanted to touch that geographic location on her bony body but he remained silent.

On the way home sitting in the back seat next to the boy who was in his car seat (Perry Mason never expected to have not one but two car seats in his trunk at all times) Perry explained in detail why this was not appropriate behavior.

"Young man, that kind of thing is exactly how you got here in the first place!" he started thinking back to the lusty ways of the boy's grandfather.

After 20 minutes of lecturing, with the driver trying to help out here and there, Little Paul still didn't see any advantage in giving up a hobby of which he was so fond and Perry knew that to save face and get the kid to agree he was going to have to resort to bribery. It cost him one trip to the toy store, one trip through a McDonald's drive-thru—an indignity that Perry, until now, had managed to avoid—and two ice cream cones.

The child kept his word and never slapped a behind again although the next month he was sent home for going around grabbing little girls and planting kisses on them. It was not the little girls that objected; no, it was the teachers who complained.

Perry just laughed and said to his dad, "At least he's going after women his own age now."

Despite a boisterous family and his successful business, Paul managed to finish his crime novel, which was a _New York Times _Notable Book and which he dedicated to:

"_My two sets of parents:_

_The woman who made an incredible sacrifice,_

_Two men who taught me everything they know,_

_and the magnificent lady who taught me what they could not_

…_which was __**everything**__."_

When Paul gave him the manuscript and he read that—the part about Della, that is—Perry Mason finally realized just how much his best friend's son meant to him; how much, in fact, he loved Paul Drake, Jr. From then on he re-instituted boys' night and he and the kid had dinner alone the first Thursday of every month, just as he and his best friend did for over 20 years.

Yes, the new and improved Perry Mason Attorney-at-Law had shaped up nicely over the last four years with everything running smoothly, until, that is May of this year when Della Street and Perry Mason were dealt a terrible blow. They had weathered it, for now, with doctors saying that Della was "cured," not in remission but cured. For Perry, who long ago decided he would not be in a world without Della Street that word meant life.

_DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason DellaStreet&PerryMason_

When Della came out of her office, Gertie had a worried look on her face.

"Miss Street," in the office Gertie would call them Miss Street and Mr. Mason, until her last day.

"Mr. Mason's…_God_-daughter is here," she had called over the intercom.

Gertie, who knew a bit of the story, had already seen the beautiful baby in Kaitlynn's arms and she drew close to Della, protectively, to be nearby when _she_ first saw him.

Della, whose eyes had gone immediately to the baby in Katilynn's arms, gasped. Gertie took her arm but she patted her hand and with an enormous smile pulled away. It wasn't shock—she was seeing what she had expected to see all along. A fleeting blast of pain or hurt or whatever it was evaporated almost before she felt it and all she was left with was unadulterated joy at the thing she had wanted for almost 50 years, a tiny version of him.

When she saw how frail Della was Kaitlynn got tears in her eyes and regretted coming. But Della threw her arms around her, holding her tight.

"Aunt Della…I…I…"

"It's okay, sweetheart. It's all okay. How could it not be?" Della asked, a hand already cupping the baby's cheek.

Tears flooded Della's eyes as he reached out his chubby little arms to her.

Smiling, Kaitlynn handed him over. "Here's your grandma, Danny."

Della turned quickly to Kaitlynn and kissed her again, "Thank you angel."

"No, Aunt Della, thank you," Kaitlynn was crying now on her shoulder. "For everything; for making me do this."

"I didn't want you to make my mistake," she whispered.

"You were the one, even more than daddy, you were the one I was most worried about," Kaitlynn said, hugging her arm.

"I'm fine…now. Just fine. In fact, sweetheart, you have given me something I've always wanted. Why did you wait so long to bring him to me? Three months," she admonished her with a warm smile.

"I was worried about how you were feeling…" But Kaitlynn gave up, Della was elsewhere.

Carrying the plump, happy little fellow around the office, Della talked and talked to him while Danny cooed and giggled at his grandma. Suddenly exhausted she had to sit down but she wouldn't give up that baby.

They continued to play, nose-to-nose, Della telling him what "a perfect little man he was" and how much he looked just like his grandpa; which was a bit of an understatement.

When Perry came in from his lunch meeting he stopped short seeing Kaitlynn. It was unlike her just to show up without calling and although she called a couple of times a week, they hadn't seen her since the baby was born. Also she was crying.

Then he noticed that Gertie was crying, too, as she came over, scowling, and slugged him on his bad shoulder before taking (yanking away)his briefcase. She was surprisingly strong for a small, elderly woman. Perry rubbed his arm then pulled Kaitlynn in for a hug.

"What was that all about?" he asked his Goddaughter.

"Hi…Dad…"

Perry pulled Kaitlynn away sharply and looked at her, then looked around the room for Della. Sitting in a chair with her legs underneath her, like she was 15 again, she was snuggling with a baby. Kaitlynn studied her father, studying his wife.

"It's your grandson," Perry looked at her then looked back at the love of his life who hadn't even seemed interested in his arrival.

"We all knew it, as soon as we saw him; the minute he was born, in fact. That's why," Kaitlynn hesitated, "That's why I waited so long to have kids. I think I've known all along. I didn't want to hurt my dad and I just couldn't hurt Della."

Della.

"But she was the one, Uncle Perry, Dad, uh…

"It's okay, Honey, anything is fine," he touched her cheek. "She was the one…?"

"Della, was the one who encouraged me to get pregnant. She kept after me for years, telling me not to give up my chance to have a baby for anything."

Perry looked down at the floor, unable to move.

"What else did she say?"

"That you all had made the mistakes and it wasn't my job to protect anyone. That babies make everything alright, just like I did," Kaitlynn smiled and put her arm around Perry's waist. "Only Della could say—and make you believe—that an unwanted pregnancy from a tryst made things better!"

Perry squeezed her shoulder and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "That's who she is, Kaitlynn."

"But if I had known how sick she was, I would have waited longer. I thought that since she came back to work …well…"

"She's better, she's much better than she was. The doctors say she's going to be fine, just fine...And it looks like you've brought her a particular kind of medicine. She hasn't looked this good since the winter."

"I don't know what I would have done without her. Mom's terribly jealous of our relationship but Della's done everything to make me try and repair my relationship with mom. She's just always so honest with me and accepting of me. You know, you're going to think that this is weird but…I felt like she loved me the minute she met me."

"If she even suspected that I was your father then… she did."

"She said she always thought you were and that you did, too. And when I was in trouble you…" Kaitlynn stopped, crying. Perry put his arms around her and held her.

"Dad, is she really okay? I love her so much…." Kaitlynn watched her pretty stepmother as she lay back and held up the baby who every time she pulled him away from her would reach out those fat little arms, making her laugh.

"She's impossible not to love. And she is going to be fine, honey. The doctors have used the word 'cured' so I'm taking them at face value…from now on. Does she know?"

"Oh, dad," Kaitlynn laughed. "All that you have to do is glance at him."

"How's your father?"

Kaitlynn started to cry, "He says…he says he wouldn't love me less if I were adopted…he says it's the same thing. But Perry…they're not good."

"I'm sorry for that. But Kaitlynn they never really were; even when they said they were, even when they tried to be. You know, I'm not proud if this but I say it for a reason, I was the only one…who cheated. They were apart, they both saw other people. Now that the truth is out maybe they can weather this patch. I tell my clients they only make it tougher to defend them when they lie."

"Perry," she Shrieked in excitement as soon as she realized he had come back, "Come here, Dear! Come and look at our beautiful little man!"

Della's eyes sparkled as she turned Daniel towards his grandfather. Perry stopped short faced with the baby; it was as if he was looking at his own baby picture.

But it was Della who really captured his heart, ever Della. Della Street was in love, no hurt, no betrayal, just pure love for their grandson.

Perry had to turn away from them.

Kaitlynn walked over to Della sitting on the floor in front of them. Daniel, completely enamored, was unable to take his eyes off her, leaning in for cuddles and reaching out for her smile. Della's deep, throaty laughter floated around the room like bubbles.

"It's amazing," said Kaitlynn shaking her head. "Danny doesn't like anyone, Aunt Della. Not even Jake, not even his own dad. But from the moment he saw you that was it. He was in love."

"It's hereditary," said Perry calling over his shoulder, still unable to turn around.

Della laughed at that remark, "Huh!"

As she struggled to get up, Kaitlynn took her arm before Perry could reach her.

"Come on now, you have to see grandpa," Della walked towards Perry.

"Come on my little apple dumpling, come on," Della said kissing his cheeks until he couldn't stop giggling.

Della tried to put him in Perry's arms but Danny would have none of it, clinging to Della's lapels and getting a scowl on his face that she knew so well it made her laugh and cry at the same time.

"Oh, you are your grandpa's boy, aren't you? Aren't you, baby?"

"That's it, he's left me for his Grandma!" laughed Katilynn, who couldn't describe the joy she was feeling at that moment.

Della was oblivious but Perry hugged Kaitlynn again, "Thank you, sweetheart."

"Well, she is."

Della was holding him up kissing his belly when she heard it growl and laughed out loud.

"Oh, gosh he's always hungry," Kaitlynn shook her head at Della who nodded over at his grandpa, making Kaitlynn smirk.

"Young man," Perry shook his finger at Daniel who tried to grab it with a big grin for his grandpa, "You are going to have to grow up quickly so I have someone on _my_ side."

Perry leaned in with his arms around Della and kissed his grandson whose eyes went wide at first from the whiskers and then giggled. Pulling a bottle out of the diaper bag, Kaitlynn handed it to Della who loved the way his little mouth opened as soon as he saw it coming his way.

"You're like a baby bird in the nest, head back, just waiting."

When the phone rang, Getie interrupted them, "Mrs. Parrish on Line 3, Mr. Mason."

"Oh, boy," said Kaitlynn.

"Keep Della company, okay honey?"

Perry went in to his office and shut the door behind him to pick up his phone.

"Perry… Are they visiting you?"

"They're here."

"Are you alright?"

"Laura you should have called me three months ago. You have got to start acting like an adult about this. Why put the onus on Kait? Why let it be a shock for my wife?"

"Your wife?"

"Della!"

"You married..._Della Street_?" Perry could hear the shock and disappointment in her voice.

"Laura, for the last time, Della _owned_ _me_ from the day she walked into my office in 1949. We've been together for 48 years. Our marriage four years ago was just a piece of paper."

"I didn't really…know, I guess."

"No, Laura, you didn't want to know. You didn't want to know in '67, you didn't want to know any of the times that you called me after. And you don't want to know now because I'm guessing that you called to see me."

"Yes, you're right. I did."

"That's not going to happen."

"We have a grandchild, now."

"No, Laura," Perry said entirely calm and in control. "Della and I have a grandchild and you and Max have a grandchild. How is poor Max by the way?"

"We're separated."

Ah.

"That's why I wanted to see you."

No doubt.

"I don't work in divorce."

"That's not what I wanted. I just wanted a shoulder to cry on, some advice…"

"Like last time?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Yes, I guess so."

"Laura, I have two shoulders and, such as they are, they are for the support of one person and believe me she needs them."

"Kaitlynn said she had been sick. Do you know they have lunch at least once a month, usually more? She's still angry at me for lying about the baby shower. It was stupid on my part, I guess. "

"What do you mean lying about the baby shower?"

"I told Kait I invited Della and then when they had lunch…well…"

"I take it she found out that you didn't."

"She said Della was perfect about it, of course. The perfect Miss Della Street."

"Mason."

"Yes, well, whatever her name is, I think at this point Kait her loves her more than all three of us combined. I hope she's well."

"It's been a battle…we think that she's in the clear but…"

"I'm sorry, Perry. I see now what she means to you. It hasn't been easy over here, either. But then that's my fault."

"Laura what I'm going to say is hard but it is well meaning. Max has every right to feel the way he does. You _know_ that I know you got pregnant on purpose and you know how I know," there was silence on the other end of the phone except for Laura clearing her throat.

"Just like you answered the phone that night on purpose; and despite what you say, you knew then and you've known all along that Della was the one. Without her my life would have been worthless and I wasn't going to give her up for some misplaced act of chivalry.

Now you have a chance to make things right with Max; for the very first time. Make the most out of it; call him, talk to him."

"Are you _afraid_ to see me?"

Perry sighed, "Laura I'm afraid of one thing, losing Della. She's the only person I have ever truly loved and the only one who has ever truly loved me. And she's ill, Laura. She is gravely ill."

Perry rubbed his hands over his beard then put his forehead in his hand. When he looked up there was Della, standing there with a sleeping baby in her arms.

"Please take the advice I gave you, Laura. I'm only going to give it once. Take care of yourself."

Perry hung up the phone and looked at his beautiful girl.

"Where's Kaitlynn?"

"Your daughter needs a few hours to herself and since the baby won't let anyone else hold him I told her to run alone, that we'd be fine."

Della was staring into the little face, tears running down her cheeks.

"Della, are you sure it won't be too much for you?"

"Honey, I feel better than I have in months."

"Come here," Perry held out his arms and she walked over to him. Pushing his chair back from the desk he gently settled them in his lap.

"I've a feeling I've been replaced. You know, I think that that's one of the reasons I didn't want children. I wanted to be the center of your world."

Della gave a short laugh, "And that's the reason I wanted a baby; I always wanted a little you. And now I have him."

With her index finger, Della stroked the little fingers that were wrapped so tightly around her pinkie. Between the bottle and meeting his grandparents he was out like a little light. Perry watched her, heart full in a way he had never quite felt before.

"And you," Della said kissing him deeply, "Have always been and will always be the center of my world."

"The little man," as she called him, gave out with a long yawn, opened and closed his little mouth a few times as if he were chewing.

"He can't still be hungry?" Perry said.

Della just looked at him, which made Perry shrug and laugh.

"Guess what day he was born?"

"No idea, my love."

"May 2nd."

"Our anniversary; one of them anyway."

"Poor Kaitlynn; thanks to his grandpa he weighed 9 lbs. 7 ounces and he was 24-inches."

"Is that…a lot?"

Della just clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "Is that a lot? You had to be sedated for a kidney stone the size of a lentil!"

Perry laughed, "Della, I have had a lot of pain over the years and that hurt."

Della laughed, head bobbing, until tears came to her eyes. "I know my love."

They laid their foreheads against one another, still chuckling. "Okay, young lady; show me this little man of yours. You know he's just driving you mad."

"Well!" she said snuggling to Perry while kissing Danny's apple cheeks. "See these long, elegant fingers?" Della splayed the tiny hand out in hers. "Those are his Granddad's beautiful hands."

"Now this perfectly sculpted little mouth and dip in his upper lip," Della said tracing her pinkie around it, making Danny's nose wiggle and lips purse, and his granddad laugh. "And see! See these two sets of dimples, upper cheek, and down here by his mouth and, of course, the one in his chin,"

Della peered at her husband over a lifted shoulder.

"Then, of course the eyes—that must have killed everyone when they saw them Perry; our poor girl. I think I did a good job of preparing her but…"

"What about you?"

"Oh I was just waiting for it…waiting and hoping…" she smiled and her kissed her curly head. "You can't see the color but they're your indigo eyes, like denim with flecks of silver; the same shape, the same lid, the same thick arched, eyebrow…even little bags just like yours."

Della laughed when she pointed them out but Perry couldn't take his eyes off her watching the baby. An enormous wave of sadness, the missed opportunity washed over him but he pushed it away, not wanting her to see it. Della had gone through her sadness over not having a baby several times over the years and he hadn't been as sensitive to it as he should have.

"Yes he is his granddad in every way?"

"Every way, huh?" Perry stroked the tiny hand.

"Honey," she rolled her eyes at him and said out of the side of her mouth, "I changed his diaper…_**every**_ way!"

"Della Katharine Street Mason!" whispered Perry who was blushing—and laughing in spite of himself.

"And that?" Della chuckled softly as Danny made little _wooshing_ sounds while breathing in and out. "That's going to be a snore someday; poor wife."

"I don't snore Della Street," Perry whispered in her ear.

Perry's long fingers pushed the curls back from her forehead so he could see her widow's peak. Wan these days, her beauty had taken on an ethereal quality; a flower's shadow that fades when the sun shifts. Perry was afraid that if he didn't keep his eye on her she might etoliate, becoming part of the landscape and leaving him unable to see her anymore.

"Come on, pick a couch." Perry helped her off his lap.

Della walked to the one situated nearest the terrace. After Perry tucked himself into the corner Della handed him the baby and between taking his grandson from his wife's arms and holding that warm little body against him, he was introduced to a kind of love and a depth of love that was … unexpected.

"He's a hefty little fellow isn't he?" tears strangled Perry's voice.

Della regarded her completely destroyed husband as he looked up into her eyes, running her fingers through his hair.

Softly she said, "That's what happens when they fall asleep, Dear. They turn into tiny bags of cement."

Kicking off her heels, she went to bring the diaper bag over. A second later Perry's frantic voice called for her. Daniel, who had opened his eyes, was very dismayed with the face before him and had taken on quite a scowl.

"It's okay, Dear. Tell him it's okay and rock him a little," Della knew he could handle it, knew he needed to handle it himself.

Daniel didn't smile but he stopped scowling and didn't make a sound. Upon her return, Della sat facing Perry, drew her long legs up on the couch and took back Danny, who simultaneously smiled and fell back to sleep against his grandma.

Perry encircled them both in his arms as Della snuggled into Perry's chest.

"Boy, those eyes are…something…" Perry was more than a little unsettled by the whole afternoon.

"Aren't they, though?" Della smiled lovingly at him. "Now you know what everyone else feels."

"Daunting."

Della looked away from Danny for a moment, but only a moment Perry noticed smiling, "Difficult conversation?"

"For Laura, I'm afraid."

"Did she do this on purpose?"

"Yes, my darling. I think she thought that she could trap me that way. I hate to say that about any woman, particularly one I genuinely like, but she was young, I guess. Her mistake was not telling Max the truth. He would have stayed with her anyway. He's a good man."

"How did you figure it out?"

"Much the way you did; piecing it together. But, and I don't want to go into this in too much detail, I caught her…doing something one night; the night I ended it with her actually."

Della stared at him, curious.

"No, my darling, you're too much of a lady. But it never even have occurred to me to leave you. I did offer to marry her and divorce her as soon as the baby was born or that we would take the baby …if it was determined that the baby was definitely mine."

"I would have agreed to both of those," Della said kissing Danny.

"I know that, Della," he stroked her cheek.

"And I offered, of course, to pay for everything. But I didn't hear from her again until the baby was born. Kaitlynn, she said, looked like her. The timing, she said, was such that it almost had to be my daughter but by then she and Max had been back together for months so she was going to let Max think she was his. I'm sorry none of them seem to be getting along."

"I encourage Kaitlynn to talk to Laura but," Della shook her head, "Laura has made this all so much more difficult …she loves her very much but she doesn't see how this is hurting her, how this has hurt so many people. I don't know. She's a nice enough woman, Perry. Maybe it's too painful for her to see accurately."

Perry watched his girl intently.

"Are you as tired as you look?" Perry asked worried.

"I'm afraid that I probably am, my love," Della reached up and stroked his cheek. "Don't worry the doctors told us to expect this for a while longer. I'll be alright, my love."

Della looked down at the baby and smiled. "Yes, I'll be just fine. I have to watch my tiny you grow up."

After kissing the fat little cheeks one-at-a-time Della lifted her lips to kiss Perry who then guided her head to his chest, where she drifted off to sleep.

Sitting there with the afternoon sun streaming in the windows, the most beautiful woman in the world, who just happened to be his wife, sleeping on his chest, their Grandson in her arms, Perry Mason knew that he was a much luckier man than he had any right to be.


	9. Chapter 9

I hope I've made the Della lovers happy! Thanks for everyone's support! xxxooo

_**Malibu Beach, July 4**__**th**__**, 2001**_

"I want my grandma," said the frighteningly beautiful little boy with thick dark waves of hair, dimples everywhere and indigo eyes, as he perched on the edge of the pool. With his long arms encased in water wings and a little Buddha belly above the swimming trucks that were so long they made his scraggly legs seem short, he was an exact, miniature, replica of the older gentleman standing next to him—minus the water wings, of course.

"Me,too, young man. Me, too."

"Grandpa, please get Grandma. Please?"

Perry who heard her car arrive a few minutes ago, bellowed to his wife. "Della!"

Perry, standing in the pool waiting to give a swimming lesson, laughed watching his 4 year-old grandson trying not to throw a fit, his bottom lip pushing in and out with his breathing.

How many times had Perry Mason felt the exact same way waiting for Della Street?

When at long last the sliding glass doors parted and the center of their world floated out of the house on the pink cloud that was her shirtwaist dress—happily back in style, you must keep everything she advised Perry with a laugh—the little boy broke into a huge smile, leapt from the pool and ran to her, arms outstretched and dripping.

"Danny-boy," said his doting Grandma, swinging him up in her arms and settling him on her hip where he snuggled in close. "My Danny-Boy! Are you and Granddad swimming?"

"Where were you, Grandma?" the plaintive tone of his voice reminded her of Perry any time she strayed too far from _him_.

"Well, you were a surprise visitor today my little love. Grandma was out of fish sticks."

"Did Grandpa eat them?" said the little boy scowling at his grandpa.

Della laughed and hugged him close.

"I most certainly did not young man. I have absolutely no interest in your fish-cicles." Perry was scowling back.

This sent Danny into a fit of giggles.

"Grandpa's funny!"

"He has his moments," Della looked lovingly at her husband, who returned her look.

"You know what we're going to do tomorrow, young man?"

"What grandpa?"

"We are going to make our own fish sticks!"

Danny started to scowl again. "I don't know…"

"What do you mean? You love to cook with me! We made lasagna, and you did a fine job stirring the cheese; and we make eggs…"

"I'm good at eggs, too," said the child matter-of-factly. And he was.

"You are, you are," Perry nodded his head shortly. "So we are going to go to the fishmonger's to get a nice piece of cod and make our own fish sticks."

"I like the ones in the yellow box," he explained stubbornly.

"We can make them better, I promise. Today we're going to make our own tartar sauce."

"Grandma makes my tartar sauce the way I like it," Danny looked at his heroine and almost sighed, "Gram does everything the way I like it."

Perry laughed at their smitten grandson; he loved how much the little fellow adored Della. From the day they had exchanged their first look, Danny had been in love with Della. To them he was a sweet, chubby, happy baby. Others found him truculent and churlish; he didn't cry often but he sure could scowl. By default, Della and Perry ended up with Danny frequently.

In the innumerable ways that he was exactly like his granddad, the most endearing and prominent was their shared love of Della Street.

"Well, we're going to give it a try."

"Oh, okay."

"Those I shall consider eating with you and we're going to make our own chicken fingers, too. It's called chicken Milanese. Of course, I'll have to find a white wine that goes with all of that," Perry put his chin in his hand scowling off into the distance.

Danny, who wouldn't let his grandma set him down, shook his head, scowling, too. Della looked at her two boys and started laughing so hard she cried.

"What?" they both said in unison.

"Ohhhh, you two…"

The love between Danny and his grandma had only gotten stronger over the years and Perry knew that, at least in part, the reason his wife survived her very deadly bout with cancer was that little boy.

"When are we going fishing again?"

"What do you think, Grandpa?" Della turned to Perry?

"How about next weekend?"

"Yay!"

"By the way Grandma," Perry looked up at his lovely wife. "I know something you don't know but want to know very, very much…"

Della knew instantly that Kaitlynn had called with results from the amnio and came straight over to Perry, kicked off her shoes and sat next to him on the first step of the pool.

"Watch me grandma!" Danny said as he slithered out of her arms and into the water.

"Okay baby!" Della smiled at him before turning to Perry. "Well?"

"What will you give me?"

"A smack if you don't tell me this instant!"

Perry laughed, "Well, that's not what I had in mind but frankly I can't imagine why in the world you haven't smacked me long before now."

"Me either, stop teasing me, Chief."

"What will you give me?"

Della just shook her head and putting her arms around his neck, dropping her voice as low as it would go, she gave him the answer for which he was waiting, "Anything you want…tonight."

Perry held up two fingers.

"Twins?" Della screamed and jumped into his arms.

Perry grabbed her, stunned, and then started to laugh. "Want to know what kind?"

"Perry Mason…"

"One and one."

Della kissed her husband, noticing his enormous grin. "Happy?"

"Della, I'd be happy about anything that made you this happy."

"Does the baby know anything yet?"

"No and we are charged with telling him, well, you are."

Danny had been swimming around them in big, splashy loops when his grandpa's long arms plucked him from the water and handed him to his grandma.

"Danny, how would you like to be a big brother?"

"Oh finally," said the four-going-on-forty-year-old.

"I'd say that's a yes," said his grandpa.

"Well, you're going to have a little brother _and_ a little sister!"

"Two?"

"Yup!"

"What's that called?"

"Twins; two babies born at once are twins," Grandma explained.

"So mommy and daddy are going to have one of each now…" Danny said nodding, thinking and looking for all the world like his grandpa in court.

"That means…" said the child reasoning, "They don't really need _me_ anymore."

Della was aghast, "Sweetheart, mommy and daddy will always need and want you! You're their little man. Who's going to help with the brand new babies?"

Perry had his arms crossed, head down, laughing. Darling Della, she wasn't getting it. Their grandson wasn't unhappy at all, he had other plans.

"That's not what you meant, was it young man?" Perry asked already knowing the answer.

"No, grandpa, I meant now I can come here to live _all_ the time!"

"That's what I thought you meant," Perry was chuckling.

"Oh sweetheart," Della didn't know what to do, "You know children have to live with their mommies and daddies."

"Sesame Street says that some kids live with their grandparents. Why can't I?"

Della, was terrified this would be so upsetting to say, other grandparents, that Danny wouldn't be able to spend weekends with them anymore. So, Della Street did something that she had done very few times in her life.

"Perry do… _something_!" said Della Street Mason with a terrified look in her eye.

Perry Mason almost fell over in the pool, he couldn't believe his ears.

"Come here young man," Perry lifted his grandson out of his grandma's arms and sat down close to her on the edge of the pool as Della put an arm around his shoulder.

"You can visit us anytime you want," Perry saw the lip starting and put a finger on it. "Now, now… stop that. You can come and see us whenever you want and you know that you are, and will always be the single most important thing in our lives, right?"

Danny nodded and snuggled up against his grandpa, another rare occurrence. Touched, Perry held him close and kissed his forehead making Della cry. "But you have to live with mommy and daddy and that's just the way it is. So do not mention it to them and do not upset yourself anymore about something that is not going to happen—just enjoy the time we spend together. Understand?"

"Yes, grandpa. Will you love the new babies as much as me?"

"Danny, I think I can safely say, and speak for grandma when I say it, that neither of us will ever love anyone in the entire world the way we love you. You must keep that our secret. We will love the new babies very much but we have known you longer and will always know you better, just like you will always have known us longer. You will always be the one we love the most."

"When they get big do they have to come and visit?"

"Yes, baby," said Della, "But you can still come by yourself whenever you want."

"And someday you'll be a big boy with lots of friends and you'll want to see them and play with them on weekends instead of us; and that will be okay, too," said Perry.

"No, Grandpa. You're wrong," said Danny looking seriously at his granddad, two sets of enormous indigo eyes meeting, a tiny hand curling around two fingers of a much bigger hand. "I will always want to come here." And he always did.

Danny looked at his grandparents, considering what they had said about visiting and new babies and being a big brother and it didn't seem so bad. He took a deep breath and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Normally his granddad would have told him he was too old for that and Danny looked at him expectantly. But Della had rubbed off on him over the years and knowing that the little fellow needed extra comfort after such big news, he just kissed him on the forehead again and held him even closer. The three of them sat like that for a while, on the edge of the pool the sun shining overhead.

When Chet Baker started coming through the stereo system, singing "Long Ago and Far Away," Perry wanted to dance with Della but knew he wouldn't get the chance.

"Grandma dance with me!" yelled the little voice, making Perry smile.

His grandmother took him from her husband and held him close, their right arms out and started gracefully dancing him around the edge of the pool. How many kids, Perry wondered, had a 79 year-old grandma who was still so radiant? The full skirt of her pale pink sundress she billowed gracefully above her knees when she twirled her grandson.

"Grandma…"

"Yes, baby…"

"Sing to me…" Della sighed and looked over his shoulder at his granddad, who just shrugged his shoulders.

"That's my boy."

Perry came over and held them both. Danny put an arm around each of their necks and his head on his granddad's shoulder. Della laid her head against Perry's other shoulder.

"Long ago and far away

I dreamed a dream one day

and now

that dream is here beside me.

Long ago the skies were overcast

but now the clouds have passed

you're here at last…

Chills run up and down my spine,

Aladdin's lamp is mine,

the dream I dreamed was not denied me

just one look and then I knew…

that long all I longed for long ago was you…"

~Fin~

THERE MAY BE AN EPILOGUE TO COME…I'm not certain tonight. If it's closed I will note that this week!

_**Music Notes:**_

Chet Baker is one of, if not my all-time favorites and a certain man named RB was a huge fan, as well.

Chapter Nine:

"Long Ago and Far Away," the inimitable Chet Baker singing and playing

Rosie Clooney's version is also wonderful and time appropriate

Chapter Two:

"My One and Only Love," Chet Baker

"You're My Thrill," Chet Baker


	10. Chapter 10

_**Epilogue, PART ONE of THREE PARTS **_

_**Malibu Beach, Thursday, July 5**__**th**__**, 2001**_

There he was…again. She smiled at the sweet, sleeping face of a stubborn little acorn beneath the mighty oak.

Della lay on her side propped up on an elbow, wrapped in warmth; the sheets after a night around their bodies, the first strains of morning sun on her hip, her boys snuggled up and sleeping soundly next to her—noisily but soundly.

Perry's grand snore—the one he insisted he did not have—rumbled like Zeus angry at the mortals below. Their grandson had a tiny version, more whir than roar, but with the same cadence and duration, Della noted chuckling. As hard as it was to sleep with the din, she lamented that after all of these years it would be even more difficult for her without it.

Danny's plump, perfect lips were shaped exactly like Perry's; even at his age he still had that pronounced procheilon and deep philtrum, words she learned as an art student but that had come in very handy when kissing Perry Mason.

Reaching out Della drew her middle finger over Perry's top lip so delicately it couldn't have felt like anything more than a light breeze but still it made his dark lashes flutter. Oh, the hours spent kissing that man or thinking about kissing him.

For the first time, Della wondered about the women who would someday kiss her little boy. Already so sensitive, so mercurial, just like his grandfather, he was going to need someone special. He needed his soul mate except very few people in this world ever found that even if they found love. Della and Perry had found theirs and it was important that Danny find his.

This new and sudden worry gave Della an idea for a project, and although she and Perry had been given extraordinarily clean bills of health recently, she would attend to it sooner rather than later. Della didn't care what the woman was like as long as… as long she loved her little boy the way Della Street loved Perry Mason.

No one understood that about Perry; how very much he needed to be cherished. Well, almost no one understood it and God how he had tested her. The one thing that _he _understood that no one else did was that ultimately Della Street _chose _to stay; a decision she had made one night long ago on this very beach, once and for always.

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Della continued to watch them sleeping, their mouths slightly open, shapely cupid's bow moving in and out with each breath. When Danny got upset, his bottom lip did the same only much faster. Perry's probably would, too, she thought nearly laughing out loud.

As much as Perry loved children, as much as he loved her, Della knew that he had never wanted anything between them, not even a baby of their own. And he never yearned to be a parent, which was why he was able to keep the secret of Kaitlynn so easily. It had broken her tender heart time and again. Della had wanted something that was part of them both. As long as their children had children, Perry Mason and Della Street would have been together for eternity.

This had never occurred to the great mind of Perry Mason as evidenced by the tears that rolled down his ample cheeks late one night as they lay in bed, Della having just delivered that theory. Perry never forgot that night, not long before he made his decision to go to San Francisco.

Now here was this little gift in their lives, not part of them both but so much like Perry it was almost eerie. In her less generous moments Della felt that Danny's love for her was the reward for being such a good soldier all of these years. Perhaps it wasn't right, perhaps it came from her darkest place but it was love fairly won, like Perry's.

If she thought about it, which she tried not to do, Della Street realized that her life had been filled with longing—mostly for more of the great love of her life; more nights with the pearl moon rising over them as they lay _together_ in bed, more mornings when the sun snuck in over their heads as they nestled on the same pillow.

Officially they had lived together for a decade now and rare was the night that they didn't slip between the sheets at the same time. Della had come to love the ritual of it all but especially of going to bed; Perry did, too.

After an evening working at their desk; or curled up against one another reading, or watching a film; or sitting on the patio talking low, passing a cognac back and forth as the ember of a shared cigarette burned in the dark, Perry would rise, extend a hand to take Della's elbow and ask with a smile, "Shall we?"

With his hand on the small of her back they would climb the stairs, Perry occasionally serenading her with "Me and My shadow" in his rich baritone. Once in their room, they took turns in the bathroom each emerging perfumed and presentable for the other.

Some mornings they woke where they began, chaste and sweet. Often they woke arms and legs still around one another after kissing for what seemed like hours, flesh against flesh from head-to-toe, having fallen asleep completely sated.

But there were still plenty of mornings that found them entwined in lascivious positions, a residual of the night prior, from which they only forcibly extricated themselves. Although they wished at various times and for various reasons that they were still young, they recognized that these were their best days with one another.

Della knew that she should have had her fill of this sleeping and waking by now but denied, with any consistency, this simple pleasure for so long she never did quite. Tumbling into those indigo lakes each night as she fell asleep and emerging from them naked and wet like Venus each morning, the scent of myrtle filling the air, this had become her raison d'etre.

It had become his, too. Pressed naked against her back he would reassure her, making up for so many decades, slipping the words made only by breath into her little sea shell ear. Even at her age that deep hum of his voice could leave her writhing against him as his enormous hand swept back and forth across her belly, pressing, massaging until she was forced to face him.

Not all of their best nights ended, or best mornings began, with the same lusty banks rolling over them like fog. For the last three years, some of their mornings were enhanced in a manner she never expected; mornings made sweeter by their little companion.

Daniel Maxwell Rubin was not supposed to sleep with his grandparents—he had been told this one hundred times if he had been told once. But just like his grandfather he would nod dutifully, the soul of affability, then go off and do exactly as he pleased. Many times Della listened as Perry, with his crooked little grin, assured Tragg, Burger, Andy, and later or Denver incarnations that he had no intention of doing whatever it was that they suspected he was going to do, just before he did it.

Danny handled people the same way; it was adorable and almost guileless…_almost_.

That he was not biologically her grandson didn't matter to Della; his heart belonged more to her than to anyone else in the world. In a way it was just like Perry, who whether or not he had ever worn a ring, belonged to Della alone.

The last time Danny crawled into Perry and Della's bed he wedged himself between the two of them as they lay face-to-face, arms around one another. When they made space for him he cuddled up with his back against his grandma.

"Young man," said his grandfather opening a single blue eye, "You're not allowed to sleep with us,"

"I'm not sleeping," said the tiny attorney-in-training.

Della holding their grandson from behind raised her eyebrows—it always tickled her when Perry met himself in his grandson.

"I see. Okay, young man. You can stay…" said his granddad, smirking. "As long as you stay awake."

"No problem," said the determined little boy.

"No _problem_," echoed Perry with a grin directed over their grandson's head to Della who was giggling out loud now.

As grandson and grandfather squared off with matching blue stares, Perry lay calmly awaiting the inevitable. Danny reached out to play with his granddad's beard, the other hand tucked under his chin, just the way his granddad often slept and usually the first sign that Danny was on his way out.

Sure enough, the little boy was down for the count in minutes. Della knew each time those baggy, blue eyes fell because Perry would smile and reach out a finger to tap his grandson on the nose. Danny's eyes would snap back open but not for long. Soon they would droop and Perry's finger would find the little nose again and again and again, until Della finally took Perry's hand.

"He's going to be impossible tomorrow unless he gets some sleep," she said laughing. "And you will, too, now be good."

Perry chuckled, giving in to his beauty since it was only one night and he would be back in her arms the next. Forced abstinence started to work him over, however.

As a chip of moonlight bounced off the wall he gazed at Della, gazing back, biting her moist still-full lower lip, smoky green-grey-brown eyes seductively peering at him through her lashes.

"Della?"

"Yeeess…?" she drew the word out, tormenting him.

"Stop it."

Pursing her lips, Della laughed quietly watching Perry untilhe was _finally _able to fall asleep.

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Last night Danny had crawled in between them somewhere around 1AM Della guessed. A warm, compact body crawled over her legs then snuggled in, back to his grandpa both of them pointed toward her. Completely content now, the sleepy, little face leaned in to kiss her goodnight one hand under his chin, the other in her hand.

In their sleep, Della and Perry had adjusted their embrace to include their grandson who slept the rest of the night with a happy, goofy smile on his tiny face. By morning both of her boys had a tousled head of hair; Danny's as black and silky as Perry's once was.

Leaning in she kissed them each beneath the matching curling lock of hair on their foreheads then lifted Perry's arm from her waist and climbed gently out of bed. Perry squeezed her hand and she kissed his fingers before laying his hand gently down.

Only those big blue eyes were visible behind the little head in front of him but Della saw them twinkling and smiled. Putting on her robe to head downstairs, a sleepy little voice called after her.

"Pancakes…Gran…."

In the doorway, Della turned over her shoulder just in time to see the big version whisper into the little version's ear.

"Waaaaffflllesss…Gran!" the little voice said much more excited now.

Della shook her head watching the two of them with their eyes closed tightly and laughed all the way downstairs. Soon the smell of batter caramelizing in the waffle iron, maple syrup warming in a pan on the stove and bacon crisping in the cast iron skillet would waft up the stairs in a tangle of delicious scents pulling her boys down with it.

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For decades Della Street and Perry Mason had woken early, arriving at the office no later than 7:30 and days off didn't change their schedule. Even now so much older and reveling in a little extra time off, they only slept in after a particularly protracted night of passion, which Della noted proudly after recently perusing a women's magazine, had them well above the monthly national average for 35 to 45 year-olds!

Della was thinking of this with pride, a sinful smile across her lips, as Perry's unmistakable footfall trailed down the stairs. In his arms he carried the baby their faces scrubbed, hair combed and both wearing their navy, terry cloth robes with the white initials—Danny insisted on a robe matching his granddad's last Christmas. One size too big when they bought it, the way he was growing it didn't look as if it would make it to the next Christmas.

"What are you smiling about young lady?" Perry grabbed her elbow and turned her toward him for a kiss.

"Oh….too many things to list…" Della was still smiling as she reached around him, snuggling her head in his shoulder, her grandson draping an arm around her shoulder and snuggling in, too.

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"Granffpah," Danny said with his mouth full of waffles.

Perry and Della's attempts to teach their grandson table manners had been met with diffidence by others in their fluky, extended family. But he _so_ loved to eat.

"Yes."

"Wanna' quit T-ball…" he said eyes wide, trying to swallow.

Perry laughed in spite of himself.

"Chew, son…then swallow. What is this about t-ball?"

"You know…." Danny rolled his eyes like his grandmother. "It's dumb."

"Well," Perry started, trying desperately not to smirk, "T-ball is meant as a precursor to 'America's Favorite Past-time'."

Peeking over the paper at her grandson, Della met a blue stare darkened by confusion.

"Dear, he may seem like he's 40 but…" Della lifted her eyes toward Perry who just laughed.

"I mean you move up to baseball once you learn the basics in T-ball," Perry clarified for his small, bemused, facsimile.

"What if you don't want to play baseball?" asked Danny, following the logic of the discussion while kicking his legs under the chair and licking syrup from the back of his fork.

Perry thought for a moment and then with a huge grin said, "Well, then son, T-ball is dumb."

Della just laughed and shook her head.

Perry had sponsored the undefeated Legal Eagles at Kaitlynn's behest only Danny, despite being their star hitter, didn't enjoy any part of it. Also there were bullies who offended Danny's innate sense of justice, forcing him to sock one after he punched a little girl teammate, making her cry. Now he was under threat of expulsion if he "ever laid a hand on the boy again," said the coach, diminishing Danny's belief that this was in any way a fair sport.

When the bully struck again, Danny redressed the balance carefully so as not to get caught. Sticking out a cleat as the kid changed sides a smiling Danny watched, mitt shading his eyes, as his nemesis went airborne landing in a balling, embarrassed heap. Della had to admit he sure got some air under the child.

As Danny came to the sidelines his grandmother looked down at him, one hand on her hip, the other patting her leg rhythmically, "Daniel…"

Concerned only that his heroine might be disappointed in him, Danny played with the ring on her finger said hopefully, "I never 'laid a hand on him' Gran…."

Della Street looked at her tiny Perry Mason and it took every single ounce of strength she had not to smile at him. As always he knew anyway and shot her the same crooked smile his grandfather had shot her repeatedly over the years.

Perry who had witnessed the whole thing, and knowing his grandson all-too-well, just said, "Do me a favor…"

"Yes Gramps," Danny leaned into Perry's leg, thumb inching toward his mouth.

"If you don't want to play anymore, _tell us_. Do _not_ get thrown off the team. Understand?"

Danny stared at him, nodding innocently.

"Daniel?" Perry said putting an enormous paw on the tiny head and tipping it up to face him.

"Yes, sir," Danny turned and climbed up his grandma for a hug then scrambled over to get his little trophy.

Putting an arm around her shoulders and his lips next to her ear Perry said, "Della?"

"Yes my one true…"

"We are going to have to stay around a long, long time…"

"No one else can stay a step ahead of him…"

"A long, long, _long_ time…"

"Yes, Dear," Della pursed her lips, laughing, and wrapped an arm around his waist.

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"Grandma?"

"Yes, baby…" Della looked up from her paper.

"Will you tell daddy that I don't want to play T-ball anymore?"

Della took a sip of coffee before delivering the blow.

"No sweetheart."

Two faces that had been happily munching waffles and bacon stopped abruptly, sharing the same stricken look making Della's lips purse.

In the four years since they had first fallen in love Della Street had never turned her grandson down for a thing. Danny looked to his granddad for an answer to this perplexing situation but all he could do was shrug his confusion at the little fellow.

"I will be happy to hold your hand when you tell him but this is the kind of thing a big boy must do for himself. I make granddad do big boy things all of the time," she laughed. "It's good for him. It'll be good for you, too."

Danny sighed then gave a single, brief nod, "Okay, Gran… whatever you say."

Perry stole a glance at her and Della was radiant behind her paper. Perry realized for the first time that it might not be Della Street who was wrapped around their pinkies after all, but they who were wrapped around hers. Either way he was enjoying her pleasure at their grandson's adulation.

"We can tell them tonight when they pick you up," said his granddad.

Danny's face dropped.

"Tonight?" yelped the little boy.

Della and Perry exchanged a glance; a major melt down was in the offing.

"Yes, baby, you were only here for the fireworks last night," Della cooed at her grandson, wiping syrup off his chin. "Granddad and I have to be in court tomorrow."

"But I thought I was here for the whole weekend. I always get to stay the whole weekend…" he wailed his head swiveling frantically between his grandparents.

And with that, the lip started.

Della reached over and pulled Danny off the chair and onto her lap, her arms around him. Burying his head in her chest he didn't yell or scream just sniffled softly against her, grasping her bathrobe with sticky, little fingers as if she was a life preserver and he was in the middle of a typhoon.

Della looked at Perry who was watching the scene with concern, elbows on the table now, face partially hidden behind his clasped hands.

"Shouldn't love us this much, Della," Perry said very quietly, hoping not to hurt her.

Della nodded as Danny turned to face her, wrapping his chubby little legs around her waist, his long arms around her neck where his face was now buried.

"But you know, here it's just unconditional love; everywhere else he feels…"

"I know," Perry saved her from having to try and say more.

Della and Perry both knew that when other family members looked into Danny's beautiful, pensive face, it was a source of pain. While it didn't matter to his dad who tried hard to help everyone keep it in perspective, Kaitlynn was under enormous pressure to balance her parents' emotions.

In almost every way, Danny was an exact replica of Perry Mason, leaving two grandmothers doting and besotted but causing constant turmoil in the already tumultuous relationship of Laura and Max Parrish.

Della shook her head, "I was selfish…to want…this. Who knew… _so much_ like you?"

Perry got up and came around the table, putting his arms around her. When Danny reached out and grabbed the lapel of his robe, Perry leaned in and kissed his head.

"Della Street there has never been a single selfish thing about you; never."

"This is, but I can't help it," Della blew a stream of air out through her tears, whispering in Perry's ear, "I wouldn't change it… I love him _so_ much."

"Weekend?"

"Do you…mind?" Della's voice lifted.

"Now what do you think, young lady?" Perry smiled indulgently at her. "I'll make the call. He can run the office for Gertie until we get back from court."

"Don't joke…" giggled Della through her tears.

Perry stopped and looked at her, phone in hand, "Della, I _wish_ I was joking."

Perry walked in the other room as Della kissed Danny's cheek—wet and warm from being overwrought. Carrying him to the counter she ran a clean kitchen towel under cool water and pressed it to the back of his neck, his head against her bosom and chubby, long fingers still tight on the arms of her robe as he hiccupped.

When she took the cloth away, enormous, damp eyes met hers, so sad, so lost that her heart melted. How familiar that look was.

Perry came back in the kitchen and handed his grandson the phone. "Your mommy wants to ask you something."

"That's an interesting look on your face, Counselor…" Della wasn't smiling anymore.

"Well, he has another grandmother and apparently she would like to stop over and see him."

"Here Gran," Danny handed the phone to his stunned Grandma.

"Hi, Honey, are you sure this is okay?"

"Actually, it's a bit of a relief when he visits you. This is a lot tougher than I expected."

"I know, Honey. I'm sorry."

"I know _you_ know. You're probably the only other one who _truly_ does."

"And I am always here for you, you know that. Max, Perry and your mom are, too."

"No, mom and dad are too caught up in their own thing; their own feelings about this. And mom is being very weird these days."

"Well, we're here. How are you feeling?"

"Fat, lumpy and I've got almost five months to go. I'm actually relieved when I'm sitting in class, though."

Della didn't wonder with all of the stress at home. Kaitlynn, who left the music business just before Danny was born, had returned to school to study entertainment law. It was perfect for a former singer whose biological dad was a famous attorney and adopted dad managed performers' money. Kait would have plenty of contacts, still be in entertainment and be able to give her clients the unique understanding of a former performer.

It was, of course, Perry's idea. And thanks to him she was on an accelerated track at UCLA making this was her final semester. She spent a great deal of time at Perry and Della's office, appreciative of the library and the built in babysitting service.

Next year she was supposed to work with their firm but everyone was worried about logistics. Everyone except Della Street who suggested that with all of their space they simply create a nursery. Staffed with a nanny, of _her_ choosing, Danny could join the twins after pre-school and, if anyone else needed child care that day, particularly Paul and Kelly, well then the more the merrier!

"That's why _you_ are the head of the firm," Perry had announced, making her eyes shine with pride.

Kaitlynn continued confiding, as she always did, in her stepmother, "I wish the rest were easier…"

"It will be better when the twins come, Sweetheart."

"You're going to have two more to love; you have room?" Kaitlynn started to laugh.

"You're father designed this place with five bedrooms _and_ a nursery…we have plenty of room!" Della's eyes made a sweep of the house.

"You sure do," although she didn't say it, Kaitlynn was thinking about Della's heart, not the house. "We all need a get together out there soon. What do you think?"

"Tell me what dates work for you," said Della getting excited, "And I'll check in with Kelly and Paul and see what works for them. You can get some twin advice."

"Hey, I forgot they have twins! Oh and, by the way, I'm sorry about my mom visiting you this weekend."

"You are not to give that a second thought. It will be fine; I'll see to it. I love you, Baby."

Kaitlynn adored her step-mother and when she said that she loved her she knew that she meant it.

"God she was beautiful," Kait said to Perry one rainy afternoon as they trolled through the office's press clippings. "I mean, she's beautiful now so I figured but…not _this_ gorgeous."

Perry, as proud of himself for getting her as he was of Della, smiled when he said, "My Dear, you don't even know the half of it. You should have seen her on the weekend walking the beach in shorts and bare feet; not a smidgeon of make-up on her face, dark curls wild..."

Kait watched her father. In his eyes she could see he was far away, as he absently stroked a photo of he and Della just before entering court, probably in their late and mid 30s respectively. They were a stunning pair, their attraction impossible to hide. Kait marveled at how Della managed to balance innocence with just the right amount of sex as she gazed adoringly at her lover.

"Is she for real?" asked Kait.

"How do you mean?" Perry seemed offended.

Kait laughed, "Now don't get defensive. It just seems like no one could be _this_ kind _and _funny _and _capable _and _beautiful…"

Perry laughed now and nodded, "She's for real I'm happy to say. The most 'real' person I've ever met."

"Then…" Kaitlynn faltered a bit, "I need to know something. I need to know something about men."

Perry braced himself. A practicing attorney for more than 55 years he knew what she was going to ask and he still didn't have the damn answer.

"Dad, if you could cheat on Della then _any_ man could cheat on _any_ woman. I don't care _who_ it is. How could you do it?"

Perry stared at his daughter for a few seconds before shutting down the conversation by reminding her of a very salient point, "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth young lady."

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As Della hung up the phone, Danny who had been in his granddad's arms leaned down for his grandma.

"I get to stay, Gran," Danny kissed her cheek and settled in against her as his grandma kissed him back over and over.

"Yes you do my little love you get to stay with granddad and me. That was pretty nice of mommy wasn't it?" Della inclined her head toward the little boy and he nodded vehemently.

Perry watched Della deftly working her magic, sewing up the seams, joining everyone together in her gentle way.

Danny nodded his head but, as usual, wanted to take care of business, "We didn't tell them about T-ball…"

"We'll do that later in the weekend. And guess what else?" Della tried to sound excited.

"Your other Grandma is coming over this weekend to see you; won't that be nice?"

Danny recoiled with his nose crinkled. Hard as it was, Della maintained her composure.

"She makes me call her Meeeee-Meeeee…" Danny said in an exaggerated voice, his neck stretched out. "I think it's because she doesn't want anyone to know she's my Grandma…"

"Oh, Danny, no! She loves you very, very much!" Continuing in as much of a whisper as that smoker's voice would allow she said, "She doesn't want anyone to know that she's old enough to _be_ a Grandma…"

"But she's old enough to be a MeeeMeee?" he wisely asked, making them both look down at the floor.

"Do you want me to call _you_ MeeeMeeeeeeeeee, Gran?" Danny continued stretching his neck again and forcing his grandfather to go and hide.

"Keep your Mimis to yourself my love!" laughed Della. "'Grandma' is my very favorite word in the English language."

Danny wrapped his arms around her neck and she smothering him with kisses while he giggled. Perry had come back in and was leaning against the wall, watching.

"Whadya' say boys? Walk on the beach? Work off those waffles?"

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Della hopped in the shower while Perry got Danny bathed, then they switched and she dressed him while Perry showered. Afterwards she took him for his new favorite past-time; watching granddad while he shaved and did the other ablutions about which he was meticulous, like trimming his beard.

Perry viewed shaving as a lost art and his little carbon copy would sit on the counter rapt as, each time, he explained every detail. Danny and his grandfather _loved_ details

"This," he had said holding his shaving brush aloft with great piety, making Della roll her eyes, "Is the brush with which you lather your face. Grandma is the only one who buys these for me."

"Grandma is the best, isn't she grandpa?"

"Grandma is better than the best, son. I used to use an electric razor, well, still do when I'm in a hurry or traveling, but many, many years ago grandma saw your great-great grandfather's shaving mug in my bathroom, asked me about it, and decided that it was time for me to start using it."

"Grandma knows best."

"So she does, son, so she does," laughed Perry who could never get over their shared worship of Della.

"So she bought me some soap cakes," Perry put one of the warm-scented round cakes in Danny's hand and continued, "And she searched until she found the very best brushes and I've been using them ever since. See this?"

The little boy scrutinized the brush in Perry's hand.

"This is a superior grade, silver-tipped _badger_ shaving brush. Do you know what a badger is?"

"Uh uh…" Danny shook his head, eyes growing wider by the second.

"It's a small animal like a weasel, or a raccoon only much nastier. They use the finest hairs from the belly of an actual badger to make these brushes."

"Wow!"

"Grandma has to get me a new one every ten years or so because the bristles get worn. This one has been my very favorite—had it 12 years," Perry said holding it up again to be admired, it's elegant sterling silver handle suitable to the size of his hand, the decoration delicate and engraving simple, "PM, With Love, DS."

"I keep them all… in a box. Tradition is very important."

Perry concentrated on swirling the brush in the mug, which was sitting in Danny's reverent hands. As he got older he thought more often, at times like these, that his ancient fears had caused some big mistakes in their lives. And it was always Della Street who paid the price.

"What's tradition?" Danny interrupted his regret.

Perry explained, "It means you value things and ways from the past, particularly your families' past and you want those things passed down to your sons and daughters and grandchildren. That's why your great-great granddad's shaving mug and all of my brushes will be yours someday."

Danny just stared at his granddad wide-eyed, "Mine?"

"Yes, son, in fact everything I have will be yours …_someday_…" Perry looked at him with a smirk.

Danny thought for a minute then asked, "Grandma?"

Perry stopped for a moment before involuntarily howlimg. Cupping his grandson's plump cheeks in his enormous palms, he leaned in and kissed both sides of the small, adoring face. Danny handed Perry the mug then threw his arms around his him as he lifted the little boy into a bearish embrace.

"You've already got her!" said Perry still laughing, winking at Della who thought she had been hiding behind the door. "You've already got her, son!"

"Gramps…" Danny started with big eyes, his tiny hand ruffling his Granddad's beard like a security blanket.

"I love you, too, son," Perry chuckled softly to cover his breaking voice, "I love you, too."

Danny stayed with his head on his granddad's shoulder for a long while, until Perry started brushing the little face with layers of soapy lather bringing incessant giggles from the child.

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"That's a nice shave you have there, handsome!" Della winked at her grandson.

"Smooooth…" he intoned while running his hand across his chin, reducing both grandparents to laughter.

"Oh…I've said it before and I'll say it again, that child could have come from no other man in the world," Della's eyes glistened as she watched he put his little fishing hat on the same rakish way his Granddad wore his.

Locking the back door behind them, Della, Perry and Danny took a few steps on the patio when the three stopped cold.

"You really have a bit of paradise here; your gardens are absolutely incredible. Your gardeners must be here all of the time!"

Laura Parrish wore a flowing yellow sundress, enormous round sunglasses and held a straw hat the size of Jupiter in her lap. It was unclear how long she had been there but judging by the fact neither of them heard her car, Perry figured quite a while.

"We still do quite a lot of it ourselves, especially now that I can move around," Perry was proud of his weight loss and thrilled with his knee replacement. "We do need some help but I love the growing and my girl just likes to make things beautiful."

"I guess that's why everyone loves to come here," Laura's shot was gentle, "Hi, kiddo'."

Laura Parrish smiled at her grandson now clinging to Della.

"Danny, look! It's Grand…I mean Mimi…" Della said encouraging their grandson and making her husband as proud as ever.

Wrapped around Della's leg, Danny regarded his other grandmother with skepticism. When he wouldn't budge Laura walked languidly over to where the three stood, like a fortress she thought later.

"I guess someone doesn't want their very own, brand new titanium T-ball bat…" Laura said with the best of intentions.

Danny just looked at his grandparents, deadpan.

"Gee! That's a great new bat, isn't it baby?" Della directed her grandson toward the appropriate response.

"I'll use it next time I play," Danny smiled at his granddad who hid a smile behind his fist. "Thank you for my present, MeeeMeee…"

Danny gave Laura the slight hug she required and awkwardly returned the kisses that didn't quite reach his cheeks. She seemed happy enough with the response not to notice Danny's bastardization of her self-appointed nickname.

"Why don't you and Della go play with that for a while," Laura suggested.

Danny looked at Laura, "Della?"

"Yes, Grandpa's wife. He and I have to have a private…"

But Perry cut her off before she could go any further.

"Laura," Perry had ice in his voice and Della thought she had better step in.

Putting her hand gently on his chest, she crouched down to Danny, "Baby?"

"Yes, Gran," Danny encircled her neck with an arm, trying to crawl on her knee.

Over the years Laura had watched the rapport between Della and Danny with a jealous fascination. From the time he was three months old, he seemed to know when she was in the room and want only her.

More annoying than that was the way Perry's eyes stayed trained on Della. Laura had watched the two with the kind of fascination that struck most people when they were around them. They simply didn't act like any other "couple" she had ever experienced. In part it inspired such envy because Laura knew that she and Perry would never have had that kind of relationship. During their few short months together they were plenty of contentious moments.

"Would you do me a favor?" Della rubbed her nose against Danny's.

"I'd slay a thousand dragons for you, Gran," he said seriously, puffing out his small chest and brandishing his bat.

Even Laura had to laugh at such fierce devotion. When she looked over at Perry she managed to catch his eye; there was kindness there.

Della laughed and said, "My you are my brave boy! But Gran has a few of her own dragons to slay. Would you please go sit by the pool for me until we're ready to go to the beach?"

"Want my bat?"

"What darling?"

"For your dragons…"

Della tipped her head and said out of the side of her mouth, "Don't tempt me, Baby. Don't tempt me."

As Danny walked away both Perry and Laura started to speak but Della put up a stern hand, silencing them both until the baby was situated in a chair well away from them and had given his Gran a wave. When Perry started again, Della stepped in again, taking him aback but with a smile.

"No, m'darlin'…I will take care of this," said Della, as Perry gave her a little bow and outstretched his hand.

"Laura, I never thought I'd say this," looking down Della shook her head then met her gaze squarely. "I'm grateful for what happened between you and Perry. At the time I thought it might kill me but I can't imagine a world without that little boy. Now you need to grow up and make things right."

Early in her diatribe Perry was going to move in and put his arm around her shoulder to provide a united front. But as he watched his beauty, he knew that she didn't need it. Maybe she never really did. After all, wasn't she the one holding him up all of these years? Deep inside that soft, feminine exterior, beneath the smiles and giggles and fluttering lashes was a core of steel. A determination that would allow her to throw herself in front of a gun for him; to get them through their illnesses; to be his illicit lover her entire life, finally marring him in her 70s.

"Della, I don't think you know…"

"Laura I told you once. I know. I know everything. I did then. You have something with Perry that I will never have," Della's voice started to crack but she forced herself to continue, "Be happy with that and move on."

Perry wrapped his arms around her now so tightly she might have protested if she hadn't needed it so much. It took all of her strength to say those words; to give that woman—to give any woman—that particular thing, that piece of the greatest love of her life.

"Make things right for Kaitlynn. Make things right for poor Max. If you can do that, you can make things right for my grandson and the grandbabies that are coming and that is _all_ that I care about. Are we clear?"

Laura, contrite, nodded, her eyes on the ocean.

"Now, what manner of fireworks would bring you behind enemy lines on this fine July 4th?"

Laura scoffed sardonically, hating that Della was so right, that she was so decent it was impossible not to genuinely like her, even to feel bad for what she had done to her so long ago.

"I'm in trouble," Laura sighed, dropping wearily into a nearby chair. "Blackmail."

Della and Perry were horrified…but not shocked. They had been expecting this for a long time.

"Kaitlynn?" asked Perry.

"And Danny," said Laura looking up at them.

Della leaned back against Perry.

"Then we are _all _in trouble, Laura," corrected Della Street Mason, as Perry kissed her curls and held her even tighter.

-More to Come-


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